Summer Storms
by Shado Librarian
Summary: Lois, Clark and Jason visit Smallville. But not everything is calm and sweet. And more trouble follows when the vacation is over. Was WHEN SUMMER COMES. part of the SHADOWS series.
1. Smallville

**A/N:** Follows** Spring Comes After Winter**

* * *

Love is to the heart what the summer is to the farmer's year. It brings to harvest all the loveliest flowers of the soul.  
**Billy Graham**  
_American Evangelist (1918 - ) _

After winter comes the summer. After night comes the dawn. And after every storm, there comes clear, open skies.  
**Samuel Rutherford**  
_Scottish Theologian (1600? – 1661) _

"But I don't want to go to Smallville," six-year-old Jason Lane complained. His mother Lois Lane, Pulitzer winning reporter for the Daily Planet, shook her head and opened another dresser drawer, pulling out socks and underwear to go into his suitcase.

"Why can't Grandma Martha visit us here?" He handed his mother the folded up shirts and pants she had laid out on his bed.

"Well, there's a bunch of reasons," Lois explained. "Clark is writing an article about Smallville and then Grandma wants all her friends there to meet you and me since we're a family now."

"Why do we have to take a stupid ol' airplane? Why can't Superman fly us there?"

"Jason, we've been over this before," Clark Kent said from the doorway. Lois looked up, surprised. She hadn't heard him come in, but then she rarely heard him coming back to the house after he'd been out as Superman.

"We don't want anybody to know Superman has a special relationship to you and your mom," Clark continued. "It's too dangerous."

"People like Ralph and Cat would start thinking that I want to be with Superman instead of Clark," Lois added.

"That's silly," Jason commented with a grimace. Lois snapped Jason's suitcase shut and handed it to her husband of ten weeks and two days.

"Yes, that's silly," Clark agreed. He led the way down stairs to where Lois had already stacked her luggage as well as his.

"How did it go?" Lois asked quietly. He'd run off to handle an emergency while they were packing.

"Multiple car smashup on Ordway. A semi tried to avoid a stalled car, jackknifed, caught a van. The rest were just fender-benders, but it was still a mess."

"How many…?"

"Five. Everyone in the van, two adults, three kids. It looked like they were getting ready to start their vacation. I've already sent the story off."

He looked so forlorn. Failed rescues did that to him, adding to his sense of failure as he tried to make up for having been absent from Earth for nearly six years. And she knew it was so much worse when in involved kids.

"You did everything you could," she assured him and gave him a kiss. "You always do."

There was a sound of disgust behind her and she turned to see Jason standing on the stairs, watching them with open annoyance. Lois had thought - correction _hoped - _ that Jason would quickly come to terms with the fact that his long missing biological father was now married to his mother, even though they hadn't changed Jason's last name to 'Kent' yet. Metropolis family court had recommended waiting a year before going through the paperwork for Clark to adopt his own son. Despite that, she had hoped they would miraculously morph into a real family.

It hadn't happened. Jason liked Clark as an 'uncle,' as a 'friend,' even as a baby-sitter. But after six months of living in a single parent family, trying to come to terms with the death of Richard White, the only 'daddy' he'd ever known, Jason hadn't taken to the idea of sharing his mother with anybody. That included Superman. The fact that she and Clark had eloped on the spur of the moment while on an assignment hadn't helped matters, nor had the recent times Clark missed school events due both of his jobs.

Lois sighed, giving Clark an apologetic look as she held out her hand to her son. "Come along, munchkin. We've got a plane to catch."

-O-O-O-

The plane ride to Wichita was a quiet one. There was almost no turbulence and Clark was glad of that. He'd flown commercial more than once, but he still didn't find it comfortable. There was something unnerving about flying in a machine that common sense said shouldn't work. _This from a man who flies **without** an airplane._

Jason played with his Gameboy. Lois had brought along several books she hadn't had time to read at home. Clark was finishing the outline of what he planned for his article, assuming everything came together as he hoped. Perry had asked for a piece revisiting one Clark had written years before on the 'Poisoning of America – private property rights versus the public good.' The original article had been well received and he planned for this one to cover genetically modified organisms and patented life-forms.

Perry had agreed that the microcosm represented by a small Kansas town was the perfect backdrop when he wrote the first article. This time Clark admitted to ulterior motives for suggesting a trip to Smallville, especially with Lois asking for vacation days so she and Jason could accompany him.

It was going to be hard, seeing his old friends and classmates after so many years. Clark wasn't sure what his mother had told people about his relationship to Lois and her son. _His _son. Jason _Lane_.

"How did we rate a commuter plane to take us half-way across the state?" Lois wondered aloud as they boarded the plane that would take them from Mid-Continental Airport in Wichita to Smallville Municipal.

"I have friends in odd places," Clark told her with a grin.

She gave him one of her famous 'Lane glowers' that made criminals quail, politicians cower, police run for cover, and even Superman quake in his boots.

"I went to school with the pilot's brother," Clark explained. "She's heading home for a visit and so we're hitching a ride. All completely above board, even though I did promise to write something up on how urban sprawl and government greed is damaging non-commercial and small commercial aviation."

"Perry will love it," Lois commented. Clark wasn't sure if she was being sarcastic or not. She grinned at him. "Seriously, you know how Perry loves it when you go into 'crusader mode.' I think it reminds him of the old days of the crusading press."

-O-O-O-

"Grandma!" Jason yelled as he got out of the rental car and ran toward the Kent farmhouse. The door opened onto the porch and Martha Kent walked out, wiping her hands on a towel. Her worn face broke into a smile as she caught sight of her grandson. Lois got out of the car more slowly, going to the trunk to get their luggage. An emergency had called Clark away just as they were leaving the airport. There was no telling when he'd be back. An oil tanker had run around in a storm on the Oregon coast. 

Shelby the old golden retriever trotted out to greet the newcomers. He woofed cheerfully as he caught scent of Jason, who squealed at the dog's attention. Lois crouched down and scratched the dog's ears before making her way to the house, luggage in hand.

"I figure you and Clark will stay in my room and Jason will sleep in Clark's old room," Martha stated cheerfully, ushering them into the house and closing the screen door to keep Shelby out.

"Martha, you don't have to go to all this trouble," Lois assured her. "Besides, where will you be sleeping?"

"Over at Ben's," Martha explained. She checked her watch. "In fact, Ben wanted to know if Jason wants to come over to his place and watch the game with him and the other grandkids. The As are playing the Monarchs. Starts a little after six."

The screen door opened and Clark walked in. His expression was clear. _It must have been a good rescue._

"Hi, Mom," he greeted, giving his mother a quick kiss on the cheek.

"Jason?" Lois asked. "Do you want to visit Ben and Martha over at his house and watch the game with them?"

"But what will you be doing?" Jason asked.

Martha smiled. "I thought your mom and dad might like to visit some his friends in town." She turned to Clark. "There's usually a bunch of your old friends down at the pizza joint on Fridays."

"Jason?" Clark asked.

Jason pouted a little but finally nodded. "You won't forget me, will you?"

"Jason!" Martha exclaimed.

"It's okay, Mom," Clark said. "So far in the past two months I've managed to miss a parent-teacher conference, a school concert, _and_ his kindergarten graduation, not to mention being late picking him up after daycare at least once a week for the past nine weeks."

"Oh, Clark." He didn't have to be Superman to hear the disappointment in his mother's voice.

"Yeah, I've been battin' a thousand recently," Clark admitted with a sigh. "It hasn't been an easy transition."

Martha patted his arm. "Oh honey… it's never easy being a parent, even when you've been there the whole time. And I won't lie and tell you it gets easier, because it doesn't and it's damned hard work to boot. But I think you've already figured that part out."

-O-O-O-

Lois and Clark dropped Martha and Jason off at Ben Hubbard's place. Actually, it was Ben's oldest son's house now. Lois recalled Clark telling her that Ben had turned the farm over to son Jim when Ben decided to move to Montana with Martha Kent eight months before. Those plans fell through when the people who bought the Kent farm backed out of the deal. 

It had all worked out, though. The sale had been on a contract, which made it a little easier for Martha to get the property back. One of the co-ops was now leasing the farmland for a good price. She and Ben might not move to Montana, but they would be able to vacation there. Lois knew that the idea of losing his childhood home had bothered Clark far more than he ever wanted to admit.

"You be good for Grandma Martha, okay?" Lois said as Jason got out of the car. He simply nodded as he followed his grandmother into the house.

"You don't really think he's afraid we're going to just go away and forget him, do you?" Clark asked.

"What I _think_ he's afraid of is something bad happening and him getting lost in the shuffle," Lois told him. "He's also doing a lot of testing. Whether us being together means he's being left out, see what the limits are."

"I'm not doing a very good job," Clark observed. "The people at his school think I'm a flake, and they're right. I'm not exactly reliable. What sort of example am I setting when I end up half-an-hour or more late picking him up from school or daycare?"

"Clark, Jason understands why you're late," Lois assured him. "It's not like I was never late picking him up. It might hurt a little knowing both your jobs seem more important than he is." He opened his mouth to protest but she held up her hand. "He knows it's not really true, but it does look like it sometimes. And he can't tell his friends or his teachers the real reason you run late so often, so he has to suck it up when they say things."

"Including when they call me 'Mister Lane.' I'm trying to do better," Clark assured her. "But sometimes it feels like it's an uphill battle. Worse, I think he really does hate me for trying to take Richard's place."

"This from the man who almost single-handedly saved Metropolis, if not the world, twice in less than two weeks? Both times after being seriously injured?"

"Yeah well, saving the world is easy compared to getting on the good side of a six-year-old."

"Tell me about it." Lois managed a chuckle. "But it's better that he's acting out and testing us than trying to be 'little mister perfect.' It means he's not afraid of you. And that's a very good thing."

"He may not be afraid of me," Clark said. "But I'm not sure if he respects me, and I _know_ he doesn't listen to me."

Lois sighed. "That's something we need to work on. Together."

-O-O-O-

Smallville was exactly what the name implied, although Clark had explained that the name came not from its size, but that the town had been founded on the banks of the Elbow River sometime in the 1840's by a trader named Ezra Small. The county had been named after an early Kansas politician, Mirriam Lowell, a Civil War veteran. The Kent family had been a presence in the area since just after the Civil War. Not just farmers, but law enforcement, newspaper publishing, even a bank robber.

Clark pulled the car into a space in the parking lot next to a wooden building just off the main street. The red paint was faded, but a sign reading 'Harris Feed and Implement' could still be made out on the side of the building. The parking lot was nearly full. A white SUV with sheriff's department markings was parked near the exit.

"The Pizza Joint," Clark announced. Lois smiled as she read the sign on the front of the building and realized that really was the name of the place. They walked up a short flight of wooden steps onto the wide porch in the front of the building. The inside of the restaurant smelled of bread, pizza and beer. The floors were scuffed pine and the air was filled with laughter. A jukebox in the corner was playing oldies.

Several young children about Jason's age or younger were crowded around vintage video arcade games, urging each other on as they knelt on chairs to reach the controls. Older kids wearing Little League uniforms sat at tables with thirty-something couples.

Their arrival elicited bored glances from most of the patrons who looked up to identify the newcomers, then went back to their own conversations.

"Clark?" a woman's voice called out from a large corner table with several couples seated at it. "Clark Kent!"

Clark looked around to locate the voice. "Rachel?"

A tall blonde woman in a khaki uniform stood up and beckoned them to join her and her party. She pulled Clark into a hug when he got close enough, ignoring Lois's scrutiny. The shoulder patches on the woman's uniform indicated she was with the Lowell County sheriff's department. The radio, weapon and handcuffs on her web belt added weight to that observation. There was a khaki campaign hat sitting on the table.

"Long time no see," Rachel said with a grin, standing back to look Clark over. "You're lookin' pretty good for somebody who took four slugs eight months ago."

"I was lucky," Clark said, ducking his head. Lois could see the faint flush as it climbed into his face. "I never did get a chance to thank you for helping out my mom and Ben."

"Hey, what are friends for?" Rachel asked. "But you _are_ going to fill me in on what was going on, aren't you?"

"How does coffee tomorrow sound?" Clark asked.

"Works for me," Rachel agreed. She looked over at Lois, apparently noticing her for the first time. "You must be Lois. Martha mentioned he finally got himself hitched. Congratulations."

"Thank you," Lois said. "You must be Sheriff Harris."

Rachel nodded, grinning. She stretched up and kissed Clark on the cheek. "She's a smart one. You're one lucky guy. You'd better keep her," she whispered loudly enough for Lois to hear.

"I plan to," Clark agreed. "I'll talk to you tomorrow."

Rachel grabbed the hat off the table, put it on and strode out of the restaurant.

"Old girlfriend?" Lois wondered aloud.

"Old friend," Clark corrected. "Although we did go to the senior prom together after both of our dates bombed out on us. Mine ended up in the hospital with severe poison ivy and I never did hear what his excuse was for staying home that night."

"The way I hear it, they both had poison ivy," one of the men at the table said. He was heavy set and balding, a typical high school athlete who couldn't keep the weight off once he stopped exercising hard every day. "I'm Chuck Barstow and this is Adam Rainor and his current girl friend Cleo, and over there is Dave Mitchell and his wife, Elena. The ugly guy in the corner is Ed Griffin with his wife Anny." Chuck gestured to the deeply tanned, bored looking woman beside him. "My wife, Mara."

"Chuck, Dave, Ed, and I all played football together," Clark explained to Lois as they sat down opposite Chuck and his wife. "This is Lois," he added.

Chuck eyed Clark. "How long has it been since you've been to Smallville?"

"About seven years since I've been to Smallville proper. The ten-year high school reunion," Clark told him. "I was at the farm last September, after I got back from overseas, but I didn't come into town."

Chuck turned his wife. "This is the guy who threw the Hail Mary pass for the touchdown that won us the state championship our senior year. Probably the best wide receiver the Crows ever had."

Mara raised one eyebrow, eying Clark. He shifted uncomfortably at her gaze.

"The Crows?" Lois murmured, amused.

Clark nodded. "I played quarterback and wide receiver. I was pretty good."

"I'll bet. Your trophies and awards are coming back with us, you know," Lois told him.

Clark just shook his head. Lois knew she would get her way. But she also knew that he still felt the awards didn't really belong to him. They belonged to someone who didn't exist any more. Someone who died nearly seven years ago on a futile trip to find his roots.

"I still don't get why you turned down a full football scholarship to Kansas State," Chuck said, oblivious to the muted conversation between Lois and Clark.

"There were other things I had to do before heading off to college," Clark explained without elaborating.

A waitress who looked like she wasn't more than a teenager came by and took their order. She returned a few moments later with two beers.

"So, what do you do?" Mara asked.

Dave chuckled. "You don't read the Daily Planet, do you? Clark here is one of their hot shot reporters." He looked over at Lois. "So I'm going to assume you're the famous Lois Lane."

Lois nodded acknowledgment. "That's me."

The light seemed to go on for Mara. "You're the one who writes all that stuff about Superman."

"Yes."

Anny leaned over conspiratorially. "Is he really as cute as his pictures?" she asked, giggling.

Lois glanced over to see Clark staring down into his beer. "He's tall and very cute," Lois said with a chuckle.

"What's he really like? I mean, is he really as human… I mean, is he really a man under there?"

Clark had his beer glass up to his mouth when he started sputtering, nearly dropping the glass. Lois slapped him hard in the middle of the back as though he were choking. He set down the glass, giving Anny a dirty look before schooling his expression back to his usual genial, mildly curious, 'Clark' face.

Lois chuckled. "Um, I was told by one of the nurses at the hospital, after he fell from the sky, that he looked completely human and normal in all particulars. So I assume the answer to your question is 'yes.'"

Mara shuddered delicately. "I can't imagine having his hands… I mean, no matter how human he looks, he's really an alien. How do you know what he's really like?"

"I know he cares about people," Lois said. "I know he puts his life on the line just like a cop or fireman every time he goes out on a rescue, when he helps during earthquakes, and storms, and accidents. I know he's a lot more human than most of us want to believe. I know I'm proud that he considers me and Clark his friends." As she spoke, she placed one of her hands over Clark's and gave his hand a squeeze of support. He gave her a little smile.

Their pizza arrived – a veggie special with spinach, olives and mushrooms. The crust was crisper than Lois normally liked, but it had good flavor. "So, tell me what Clark was like in high school…"

-O-O-O-

"So, your first impressions of Smallville?" Clark asked as they drove to pick Jason up from Ben's house. 

"They don't let 'em out much, do they?" Lois said with a chuckle.

After a moment, Clark joined her, laughing about the conversations with the group. He hadn't realized exactly how much he had changed in the seventeen years since high school. He was a stranger here now. He was the one who'd managed to make it in the big city, the one who'd gone off to see the world. The one who was different, not because he was an alien, but that he had wanted to do more than just run a farm in Kansas.

The others hadn't really changed much. Dave had changed the most – four years overseas in the military did that. Dave came back with a Polish wife to run the family farm and seemed content with that. Chuck was a regional manager for the farm co-op based out of Wichita and his wife was in advertising at the same company. Adam was the manager of the local McDonalds. Ed and Anny were both teachers in the local schools. And even though he and Lois should have had things in common with Ed and Anny, even they seemed insular, uninterested in what was going on in the rest of the world.

"It's a nice place to visit," Lois added. "And it's a definite change from Metropolis. Must be nice, not having to worry about crime or corruption, whether some super villain is going to end the world."

"Instead you worry about whether the economy's going to be good enough for you to sell your crops at a high enough prices for you to pay off the loans you had to take out to make ends meet the year before. Whether or not the agro-giant across the border is going to contaminate your crops with GMO, making your crops un-sellable overseas. At least corruption's only a minor issue. It's hard to be very corrupt when everybody knows the mayor's brother runs the local construction company. And the last death by violence in Lowell County was Jason Trask and that was ten, eleven, years ago."

"I still can't believe what Anny asked," Lois said. "I honestly thought you were choking there for a minute. And Mara… I mean, how bigoted can you get?"

"Well, bigotry based on color and sexual preferences are politically incorrect even in rural Kansas," Clark reminded her. "When you get rid of those all you have left are religion and national origin. And let's face it. Krypton is a pretty strange national origin."

He pulled the car to a stop in front of Ben's house. Jim Hubbard was standing on the porch waiting for them. Jason was asleep on the porch swing. Martha was sitting beside him, pillowing his head on her lap. Jason's thumb was in his mouth. Clark's heart sank as he saw the grim expression on Jim's face and the resigned one on his mother's.

"Why do I have the feeling that tonight did not go well?" Lois said as she climbed out of the car. "What happened?" Resignation colored her voice.

Jim spoke first, cutting Martha off. "You might try teaching your kid a little discipline," he started. "If he was mine I'd take a strap to him."

"Then I guess it's a good thing he's not yours," Clark said quietly as he mounted the steps to the porch and went to the swing. He gently picked Jason up. The little boy stirred, snuggling against the warmth of Clark's shoulder.

"What happened?" Clark asked, looking pointedly at his mother.

"He was doing fine," Martha said. "But when the game was over the other kids wanted to watch a movie. I thought they were going to watch a Disney DVD." She frowned at Jim then went on. "The grownups were in the kitchen. Ben and I didn't realize until it was too late that the kids had turned on a movie that was not appropriate. It opened with a graphically violent murder. Jason had a melt-down. It got a little out of hand."

"A little out of hand?" Jim asked in obvious disbelief. "Martha, you saw what happened. That kid has a serious problem."

In the darkness Jim didn't see the glower on Lois's face, or her clenched fists.

"Um, Jim," Clark began in an attempt to defuse the situation. "We don't let Jason watch violent movies or TV shows. We don't even let him watch the news all that much."

He saw Jim grimace and mouth the word 'wimp.'

Clark hefted Jason higher on his shoulder so he could stand straighter. "Jim, in case my mom or Ben didn't tell you… Jason was there when his father was gunned down in cold blood. He was there and he saw it happen. That was only eight months ago. Now, tell me again why a kid who wakes up screaming because he's witnessed things that trained soldiers would have trouble dealing with deserves to get beaten?" Clark tried to keep his voice low, calm, to keep from waking Jason up. He didn't quite succeed.

Jason stirred. "Mommy?"

Jason was too heavy for her to pick up and carry any more, but she put her hand on his back to sooth him back to sleep. "I'm right here, honey. Clark and I are right here."

"I'm sorry," Jason murmured before closing his eyes.

"I know munchkin," Lois told her son.

"Why didn't you call us?" Clark asked his mother softly. "We both had our cell phones with us."

"It started so suddenly," Martha began equally softly. "And it was over almost as fast… I just wasn't expecting him to be quite so strong. He takes after you quite a bit."

-O-O-O-

Jason was sound asleep before they made it back to the Kent farmhouse. Jason even slept through Clark getting him undressed and into his favorite Superman pajamas. The little boy roused just a little when Clark started to pull the sheet up. It was already too warm for a blanket. 

"I'm sorry," Jason mumbled once more, his eyes still closed.

"I know," Clark said softly, giving him a goodnight kiss on the forehead. Clark straightened up and turned to find Lois standing in the doorway watching them.

She held out her hand to Clark and led him into the other bedroom. "It'll be better tomorrow," she promised. "He won't be as tired. It's been an awfully long day for him."

"It's been a long day for all of us," Clark told her.

"I'm not at tired as I should be," Lois told him.

"Maybe some herbal tea will help," Clark said, following her down the stairs to the main floor. "I'm sure Mom has some." He searched the cabinets without opening the doors and found what he was looking for, a box of 'Sleepytime' tea. He heated up the tea kettle and set the tea bags to steep in a glass measuring cup.

"Iced tea," he explained at Lois's quirked eyebrow. He watched his wife walk over to the shelf where his mother had set his awards and trophies. He had to admit, it was quite an impressive collection.

"You know, I didn't realize until now…" she began. "Except for your writing awards, every single trophy you have is for a team sport. Football, basketball, soccer, baseball. No tennis, no track, nothing individual except MVP."

"It's easier not to be noticed if you're part of a group," Clark explained. "Plus, I've never really felt the need to show off, to excel physically, even before I got my abilities. I can't use those to do a good job writing…"

"So it's a level playing field?" Lois asked. She followed Clark back into the kitchen and sat at the worn table while he pulled out the teabags and chilled the tea with a quick blast of cold breath. He poured the tea into two tall glasses and added ice cubes before handing one of the glasses to her. He sat down opposite her at the table.

"Yeah, I guess so," Clark said. "I haven't really thought about it. I know I have a pretty high IQ, but so do a lot of other people, so I can compete without giving anything else away. But with sports… it didn't matter if I was faster, or smarter, or if I lived on a farm, or brought my lunch to school, or didn't wear the newest style of shoes… It didn't matter which one of us scored, whether somebody was a star or not. It didn't even matter much if we won or lost. What mattered was working to reach the same goal, and that we all did what we could to get there."

"Everybody around here seems to think you're some sort of football hero," Lois pointed out.

"It's a small town, and that was the first time in about thirty years Smallville even made it into the playoffs," Clark explained. "And we won the state championship… We probably shouldn't have… But it was so nice seeing how happy everybody was for all of us."

"But your six-year-old son gets Cs and Ds in gym," Lois reminded him.

"He's only six years old. I'd rather he did well on his academics," Clark said. "So long as he does his best, I really don't care what a gym teacher or anybody else says. It'll come soon enough that he has to worry less about scoring than hurting his opponents or teammates."

"Maybe you need to let _him_ know that."

-O-O-O-

"The living room looked nearly demolished," Clark told Lois the next morning after breakfast. Jason was outside, chasing Shelby around the barnyard. "But I don't think there was any real damage except for a lamp and one of Jim's trophies. But somehow I don't think Jason'll be invited over to Ben's house for a long time, if ever," he added. 

"Small loss," Lois commented. "I like Ben, but I'm not so sure about Jim and his wife. They seem a little…"

"Redneck?" Clark asked. He shrugged. "Yeah. I don't remember Jim being like that, but it's been a long time since I've seen him." He sighed. "I asked Ben about what happened, too. It wasn't just the movie. One of Jim's buddies came over to watch the game and they were telling Jason and the other kids what a big 'sports star' I was in high school and what sorts of things Jason was going to have to live up to. It was all bull, but Jason didn't know that. Ben also said the other kids had been picking on Jason while Mom wasn't looking. They were telling Jason if I was his real father, if I wanted to be his father, he'd have my name, not yours. One of the older kids used the word 'bastard.' Ben did try to step in and stop it, but the murder in the movie was just a last straw."

"Oh God, what a nightmare. I wonder if that's one of the problems he was having at school," Lois said. "Other kids wondering why we haven't changed his name."

"Maybe. I don't know." Clark finished putting the breakfast dishes away then he took her into his arms. "Doctor Ricco warned us there would be set-backs. I'm thinking maybe bringing Jason here wasn't such a good idea. Maybe we should have waited before exposing him to this many new people."

"Clark, we can't let this sort of thing rule our lives," Lois told him. "We have to work through it and go on. This is still new for all of us."

She looked out the screen door to watch Jason. Shelby had gotten tired and was lying on the porch. Jason was in the middle of the dirt yard pretending he could fly. "One of these days he's going to take off," Lois commented. "Then look out world."

"Not to worry," Clark told her. "I didn't discover I could levitate until I was about sixteen. I couldn't really fly until I was out of high school."

"That's nice to know," Lois said. "At least I don't have to worry about that for a while, but you do need to talk to Jason about this whole sports star thing going on around here."

"I will… There may be time before the party."

"When's it start?"

"About one," Clark answered. "There's a nice park down by the river, not far from the high school… I told Rachel I'd stop by and fill her in on what has going on when the FBI was allegedly after my mom and Ben. Do you want to come along?"

She shook her head. "I'll stay here with Jason."

"I'll leave the car here for you," Clark offered.

"Won't Rachel notice you showing up in town without a car?"

"I doubt it," Clark said. "And if she does… I used to jog home from school all the time."

-O-O-O-

Clark spotted Rachel sitting in the café near city hall as he flew over the building. He was high enough that it was unlikely he'd be spotted. Superman flew. Guys in jeans and plaid shirts didn't. He came to earth in the alley behind the restaurant. 

Clark saw Rachel look up and smile as he walked in. Rachel waved to the waitress at the counter and she poured a cup of coffee and brought it over to Rachel's table.

"Where's Maisie?" Clark wondered aloud. Maisie McAllister was practically a fixture in the café. Even when Clark was small, Maisie had been running the restaurant. She'd always had a kind word and sympathetic ear for the kids around town.

"Helping your mom getting things ready for the party, I expect," Rachel replied. "So, I hear your little guy had a rough time over at the Hubbard's last night," Rachel began.

"You don't miss much, do you?" Clark observed.

Rachel shook her head. "Heck no," she said. "You were going to tell me what was going on with those guys who scared Ben and your mom last October."

"Actually, we're still not completely sure what was going on," Clark admitted as he added cream and sugar to his coffee. "The FBI identified who it was that picked them up and said they suspected them of being part of an organization Richard and I were looking into it as part of an investigation in Metropolis. But beyond that…"

"Was it some sort of intimidation tactic?" Rachel asked.

"That's what the FBI office in Metropolis thinks," Clark admitted. "Harass Mom and Ben to scare me and Richard into dropping the investigation or scare me into doing something they could come after me for. They obviously didn't realize how 'self-sufficient' Martha Kent really is or that small town cops don't automatically roll over and play dead at the first sign of an FBI badge."

Rachel studied Clark's face for a long moment. "There's more, isn't there? The people who shot you and killed White…?"

Clark nodded. "Officially Richard was killed by Lex Luthor, the madman that did all that damage to Metropolis and tried to kill Superman. The slugs they pulled out of me came from the same gun that killed Richard, and Luthor shot me in front of witnesses. Case closed."

"But unofficially?"

"Unofficially, the organization we were after is still around, in some form," Clark told her. "They're still dangerous."

"I'll keep an eye out for anything suspicious and I'll pass the warning along to Chief Parker, too," Rachel promised.

"Thanks, Rache," Clark said. He hadn't realized until he'd started talking about it with Rachel how much the incident with Ben and his mom had bothered him. It felt good to have someone who could keep an eye out for trouble when he wasn't around.

"By the way," Rachel said with a faint sigh. "Lana's in town. I saw her breeze through this morning in a rental car."

"Isn't she living in Paris or London these days?" Clark asked.

Rachel nodded. "Moved to Paris with her kid right after she divorced Pete. Doin' pretty well there from what I hear."

"Lois is going to be _so_ thrilled," Clark commented with more than a touch of sarcasm.

Rachel simply chuckled.

-O-O-O-

Clark was back from town in plenty of time to get changed into slacks and a sports coat. Not that he needed much time. Lois knew he could change clothes in the blink of an eye. 

It was only a ten minute drive from the Kent farm to Riverbend Park, where Martha had arranged a belated wedding reception for them. Lois had been told it was going to be potluck and was glad she hadn't been asked to bring anything. She had a suspicion she and Clark would never live it down if it were found out that Clark's new wife could burn water. Oh, she wasn't nearly as bad in the kitchen as she had been when Jason was first born, but her personal cookbook was still made up of the phone numbers to take-away places.

The car rounded a copse of trees and Lois caught sight of the 'reception' party. A large banner had been hung from the covered cooking area. It read 'Congratulations Lois and Clark.'

A large crowd was already present, and Lois could see Martha, dressed smartly in a beige suit, bustling around, obviously in charge. The weather was perfect. Not too hot, only slightly overcast. Brightly colored balloons decorated the tables. An awning had been set up over two of the tables and under it was a simple wedding cake.

Lois's mind went back to the reception her mother had thrown them a week after their return from Napa. That party had been a major production. Even though Lois had tried to reject nearly all of her mother's suggestions it had fallen on deaf ears. It was Ellen Lane's show from start to finish. Both she and Clark been miserable, even though Clark, gentleman that he was, refused to admit it.

Lois decided she was going to enjoy this party a lot more. Even if she only knew a handful of people here, at least these were Clark's friends and acquaintances. People he and Martha knew and didn't need to impress, with the possible exception of Lana Lang, Clark's high school 'sweetheart'.

Lois and Clark waved to Martha as they crossed the gravel parking lot to the grassy picnic area. Jason walked between them, holding their hands.

Lois noticed a small playground close by with several other children playing on the climbing structure. She pointed it out to her son, who took off running.

"Jason," Clark called. "Stay away from the river, okay?"

Jason simply nodded as he started for the climbing structure. Lois looked out past the green of the park to the river Clark had warned Jason about. It wasn't especially large, but it was deep and wide enough for boating, as evidenced by the teenagers waterskiing behind a powerboat. _Waterskiing in Kansas? Whodathunk it?_

"Show time," Clark murmured as he took Lois's hand and headed toward his mother and Ben in the midst of the gathering.

-O-O-O-

Clark had forgotten how 'small town' Smallville really was. The disconnect he'd felt at the Pizza Joint the night before was finally dissipating. This was the Smallville he remembered. 

They'd been introduced to what felt like half the town. Clark knew it wasn't, but he'd been surprised by the turn-out nonetheless. Mayor Hatcher had shown up, along with Police Chief Parker. Sheriff Harris was around somewhere as well as John Fordman, the sheriff before Rachel. Senator Pete Ross was there as was Brandon Blakely. Blakely was a few years younger than Clark and was a well-respected DC attorney.

"I keep expecting to hear the dirt on you," Lois commented.

"With Clark what you see is what you get," Maisie from the café told her with a grin. Maisie reached up and kissed Clark on the cheek, chuckling. "Ya done good, kid. Now, don't be such a stranger." Clark felt his cheeks grow warm as Lois laughed.

"Clark!" a woman's voice called out to them. Clark looked over to see a perfectly coiffed blonde woman wearing sunglasses, a designer sundress, and heeled sandals striding over to them across the grass. _Lana_. She stepped close to him, blowing air kisses across both his sides of his face. From a distance she looked much like he remembered her from school. Closer inspection showed a hardness of expression he didn't recall and didn't much like.

"Hello Lana," he said. He turned to Lois. "Lana Lang, my wife Lois Lane."

Lana stepped back and eyed Lois critically. "Lois Lane? Aren't you the one who wrote that editorial a couple years ago about Superman?"

"I've written a lot of things about Superman," Lois responded. Clark could hear Lois's heart rate go up, the slight hitch in her breath as she responded to Lana. "Which one were you referring to?"

"Wasn't there one about not needing him?" Lana asked. There was something decidedly unpleasant in Lana's expression.

"Lois won a Pulitzer for that one," Clark said in an attempt to ward Lois off. He had a sudden picture in his mind of a black cat hissing at a blonde one, claws out, back arched, tail held straight and puffed. He put his arm around her and pulled her close.

Lana arched an eyebrow at his obviously possessive move then schooled her expression into something more neutral. "Your mom said the two of you eloped suddenly." She gave Clark a curious look. "I never realized you were so – impulsive." She turned to Lois. "We have to get together sometime and share 'Clark' stories."

"Sounds fun," Lois commented, but there was a definite sarcastic undertone in her voice. "Nice meeting you."

"Ta ta." Lana waved nonchalantly as turned and walked away.

"I could very easily come to hate her, you know," Lois commented as soon as Lana was out of earshot.

"She's not work the effort," Clark told her.

"You dated her?" Lois wasn't trying to hide her surprise.

"Well, looking back I think it was more her idea, really," Clark said. "She… well, dating the star quarterback suited her."

"But you ended up going to the prom with Rachel," Lois pointed out.

"Yeah," Clark said. "Lana and I had actually broken up a couple days before. I had told her that I'd decided to leave Smallville right after graduation. There were things I needed to do and they didn't suit Lana's plans for me and her. She told me she didn't want anyone to know until after the prom. It was too embarrassing, she said. Then she came down with poison ivy and so did the son of the bank president, in places where a clothed person wouldn't get poison ivy."

"You knew the details?"

"So did Rachel," Clark said. "It's a very small town. He's in prison for embezzlement, and you've met Lana."

"Maybe I should feel sorry for her," Lois commented.

"Maybe," Clark said. "But I gave that up a long time ago. It's hard to feel sorry for someone who blames everyone else for their problems, but keeps repeating their mistakes."

"Time to cut the cake," Martha announced loud enough to be heard over the crowd. Clark was glad to drop the subject of Lana Lang as he led Lois over to the table with the cake. Lana left a bad taste in his mouth.

He saw Lois scanning the crowd, looking for Jason. The boy had been ducking in and out of the crowd with several other kids his age playing and sampling the food that had been brought for the potluck. Jason knew what he was allowed to eat and was good at staying away from the food that bothered him. With this many adults around – most of them parents – it was unlikely he could get into too much trouble.

"Jason!" Lois yelled. Clark focused his hearing on finding his son's heartbeat. Jason was beyond the trees on the bank of the river, near the wooden pier. He was climbing into a small boat with two other children, a boy and girl Clark didn't recognize. Then he heard the motorboat making a turn. One of the skiers caught the little boat then hit the water screaming. The little wooden boat overturned. Jason and the girl were thrown into the water but he didn't see the other boy. Correction – the missing child was beneath the overturned boat.

Clark acted without really thinking. "Call rescue!" he yelled at Lois, who seemed momentarily frozen as he ran toward the trees, throwing off his jacket. Jason was in the water with the girl. Both appeared frightened but unharmed as they made their way to shore. The motorboat was stopped dead in the water, the teenage driver looking for something in the river, eyes wide in horror. Clark spotted what the teenager was looking for – the skier who had fallen.

Clark dove into the water, pushing the small boat away. The trapped child was badly hurt – fractured skull, broken ribs, internal injuries as well as water in his lungs. Clark cradled the boy against his body as he made his way to the pier. A thirty-something woman was standing on the pier screaming: "Billy! Oh my God, Billy!"

There was more splashing in the water and he looked up to see Lois and several men wading toward them. Clark set the boy down on the small wooden pier. "Skull fracture, broken ribs," Clark murmured to Lois before diving into the water again after the fallen skier.

The fallen teenager in the deepest part of the river. She wasn't moving and her right leg was bent in an unnatural angle. Again, he cradled the injured person against his body, using his chest as a backboard as he swam on his back toward the pier and the rescue team that he'd heard arriving. Then, the rescue team was in the water beside him, transferring the teen onto a backboard and then pulling her from the water as they began resuscitation.

"Clark, are you okay?" Rachel asked. He looked up to see her standing beside Lois and Jason. Lana was standing some distance away, watching. He nodded to Rachel, brushing his wet hair out of his eyes. He realized he had no idea where his glasses had disappeared to.

"Jason, are you okay?" he managed to ask, making a show of catching his breath as he stood up and waded out of the river. He wasn't sure how long he'd been under the water. Hopefully not long enough to raise questions.

Jason watched him, wide-eyed, soaking wet with tears running down his face. "I'm sorry…"

"Jason, the accident wasn't your fault. But I told you not to go near the river," Clark said. "And you did it anyway. That could have been you they're putting in the ambulance."

Lois crouched down next to Jason. "Jason. Your father and I have been trying to take this slow and easy and I know it's been hard. But when he tells you something, that's me talking too. Understand?"

Clark caught the confusion that crossed Rachel's face as she watched Lois and Jason. _Mom hasn't told anyone that Jason really is mine?_ Rachel gave Clark a questioning look and he nodded. "I didn't know until I came back to the States," he said quietly. Rachel nodded in understanding.

Jason was crying harder. "Last night the other kids called me a baby and they said Clark was a big sports guy and he wouldn't want to be around a baby and then he's gone all the time and forgets to get me from school so he doesn't really want to be my daddy 'cause I'm such a baby."

Clark scooped Jason into his arms. "Jason, nothing is going to change the fact that you are my son and I love you. I'm sorry that work gets in the way sometimes. I'm new to this father thing, you know. You gotta cut me some slack here," Clark said, trying to keep his tone light. Jason was still sniffling, brushing his tears away.

"But if you really want to be my daddy, why don't I have your name?" Jason asked.

"Your mommy and I were told it would be better to wait," Clark said. "But we don't have to. You can be Jason Kent starting right now, if you want."

"Then everybody will know you're really my daddy," Jason stated, rubbing his hand under his nose. "And you're not embarrassed that I'm a baby and not a big sports guy."

"Jason, I would be proud for everybody to know I'm your daddy," Clark said. "And I don't think you're a baby at all and being a big sports guy isn't as important as other people think."

"Okay, Dad," Jason said, hugging Clark's neck.

_He called me 'Dad'. Maybe it's going to be okay after all._

In the crowd Clark saw Lana Lang give him an undecipherable look before she turned and walked away.

* * *

**A/N**: The Pizza Joint was first introduced by Caroline FKAK in the L&CtNAoS story **If I Were Yo****u.**

The ball game is between the Oakland As and the Metropolis Monarchs.


	2. My Father's House

**A/N: **Written for the Clois 100**  
****Prompt**: #049/Used

* * *

We are not permitted to choose the frame of our destiny. But what we put into it is ours.**  
Dag Hammarskjold**  
_Secretary General of the U.N. (1905-1961)_

The most important thing a father can do for his children is to love their mother.  
**Rev. Theodore M. Hesburgh**  
_American academic administrator (1917 –)_

"We'd better get dried off," Lois said, taking Clark's hand and leading him away from the river. Clark's hair was over his forehead and water was dripping down his face. His glasses were gone. "I hope you have an extra pair of glasses around."

"At Mom's house," Clark said. Jason was still on his arm and had started squirming.

"I see them…" Jason said softly, pointing to the water. He wriggled out of his father's grasp and ran back to the water, reaching into the mud. A moment later he pulled a pair of muddy eyeglasses from the water. He handed them to his father.

"Martha," Lois called out to the older woman. She was standing with Rachel Harris and Mayor Hatcher. The cake was still waiting to be cut, but Lois knew the accidents had ruined the party. "I'm going to take these guys back to the house. Get them dried out."

"I'll come by later," Martha promised.

-o-o-o-

"You're not going to start obsessing that you couldn't do more, are you?" Lois asked as the car pulled away from the parking area. She was behind the wheel since Clark's glasses were covered in mud. One of Martha's friends had loaned them two old quilts to protect the car seats.

"I know there wasn't anything more I could have done, considering the circumstances," Clark told her. "I don't _think_ I did anything so out of the ordinary that it would raise suspicions."

"Aside from knowing something was wrong when the rest of us couldn't see it? Aside from being the first responder?" Lois asked. "I didn't see your old football buddies heading for the river."

"Don't be too hard on them, Lois," Clark said. He pulled out his glasses to inspect them. A little careful cleaning and they'd be okay. "Most people's first reaction when bad things happen is to freeze. I think it's part of the 'fight or flight' response, a moment of unconscious evaluation of the situation. You and I, we're wired a little differently. Our evaluation time is shorter and we both run toward the problem instead of away from it. And I did see the girl heading toward the pier and I heard her scream. I doubt anybody's going to think twice about it. I always did have pretty good hearing."

He let his voice trail off as he turned to watch the road in front of them. They were passing Schuster's field. It was still called that, although old man Schuster had died many years before and the field had been part of the Kent farm for over well over thirty years. "That's the field my ship came down in," he said softly. "Dad said it looked like a fireball and passed right in front of them before hitting the ground and tearing out a gouge that was a quarter mile long. Dad went in to see what it was, figured it was a satellite or a meteorite, maybe even a plane. By the time he got here, I was standing there waiting for him."

"How old were you?"

"Doc Baker figured I was two and a half, maybe three. I sort of remember it."

The mailbox that marked the entrance to the Kent farm was just ahead. Lois pulled the car into the driveway, parking on the weedy gravel in front of the porch.

Clark got out and opened the back door of the car for Jason and the boy clambered out. "Both of you, inside," Lois ordered. "Jason, you're getting a bath."

"Mommeee," Jason whined.

"No arguments," Lois shot back. "God only knows what was in that water. Now get upstairs and get ready."

Jason glowered at her and headed for the door, sneakers squelching as he walked. "Uh Jason, take your shoes and socks off before you go inside, please," Clark said. Jason plopped down and pulled one muddy sneaker and sock and then the other. He dropped them on the porch as he got to his feet. "And you don't want to leave them on the porch. Shelby likes shoes and socks… for lunch," Clark added.

Jason's eyes widened at Clark's statement but he picked up his sneakers and socks, clutching them to his chest as he went inside the house.

"Well, that got his attention," Lois said with a chuckle. She looked up at Clark, eyes sparkling with amusement. Clark had shed his loafers and socks while Jason was taking care of his and the leather shoes were now hanging off of two fingers. No need to spread mud all over Mom's house.

"I was thinking going on my rounds," Clark said. "I've realized if I stay out of sight too long the rats start to come out of their holes."

Lois gave him a searching look as though trying to decide whether or not to say something. _'You should have thought of that before you left for Krypton, moron,'_ he filled in for her. Aloud he said: "I'm not sure what Mom has planned for tonight, but I'm sure I'll be back before she gets here."

"Be careful," she ordered. That was now her mantra every time he left. _Be careful_. Two simple words that carried with them so much: _be careful, there are bad guys out there; be careful, it's a big dangerous world; be careful, I don't want to lose you again; be careful, I love you._

"I will," he promised, giving her a kiss before heading into the house and speeding into the Suit. He was out a window and halfway to California before Lois even stepped onto the porch.

-o-o-o-

Jason was now old enough to object to his mother giving him a bath, so she filled the tub for him and stood just outside the open bathroom door as he shed his wet clothes and climbed into the warm bubble topped water. She scooped up the drying mess of his jeans, shirt and underwear and headed downstairs to the washing machine, keeping an ear out for the sounds of falling – or too much silence.

Clark's shirt and socks were already in the washer. His slacks and jacket were on hangers but needed to be dry-cleaned. Chances were very good the slacks were a total loss. Lois had managed to rescue his jacket from the ground before it got trampled in the rush.

She looked through the cabinets above the washer and dryer, finally finding the detergent sitting next to a can of roach spray and a box of borax. Lois was constantly amazed at how cavalier even intelligent people were about dangerous chemicals in their homes. Of course, the elder Mrs. Kent's laundry room wasn't exactly _in_ the house. It was an enclosed back porch – the cabinets were hung on lap siding and the rug covered floor sloped slightly to the outer wall. The washer, dryer, and freezer all had shims under them to get them level.

Lois started the washer and hurried back upstairs to check on Jason. He was cheerfully playing with the bubbles, looking up only when she came in with fresh clothes for him. He'd washed his hair with the bubbles so she wouldn't get out the baby shampoo. Jason had always loathed the smell of regular baby shampoo, even as a baby. At least now she understood his objections – she'd caught Clark wrinkling his nose at the smell of the shampoo as well. Like father like son?

"Make sure you rinse the soap out of your hair," she ordered as she went back down stairs.

She poured herself a glass of iced tea, listening for Jason as she went to sit on the steps to the upstairs. The house was already heating up as the afternoon sun beat down on the roof and the dry ground outside. The upstairs windows were open at the top to allow the hot air to escape. It seemed to help a little. Clark had assured her she would get used to the heat. She just needed to remember to stay hydrated and that in this climate, salt was not an enemy.

She recalled laughing at Clark once, soon after they'd first been assigned together. He'd poured a little mound of salt on his plate during lunch and had been dipping celery sticks in it. She nearly died the time she caught him salting melon slices before eating them. Now she understood: it was a Midwest thing. An adaptation to the heat.

Lois was nearly done with her tea when Jason called down to announce he was out of the tub. She wiped the sweat from her forehead as she climbed the steps. As she approached the bathroom she spotted little wet footprints on the pine floor heading for Clark's old room. She grabbed a towel and wiped up the water on the floor. Jason had let the water out of the tub, at least.

As she started picking up the mess Jason had left in the bathroom, Lois heard the downstairs door creak open.

"Hello?" a woman's voice called out. It took Lois a moment to place the voice. _Lana Lang?_

She hurried down the steps to see the blonde woman standing by the shelf that held Clark's Kerths and his high school trophies.

"No Pulitzer?" Lana asked.

"Clark's been short-listed for it," Lois said, trying to keep the annoyance out of her voice. What did this woman care if Clark had won the Pulitzer or not? "And he's won other awards. Besides, the Pulitzer winners get a check and a certificate, not a trophy. Is there something you need?"

The other woman shrugged. "I just wanted to make sure you and Clark and the boy were okay after that… the 'incident.'"

"The 'boy' is named Jason. Jason Lane Kent," Lois stated. She was definitely disliking this woman.

"Of course… Where's Clark? I was expecting he'd be here."

"Oh, he's around somewhere," Lois told her. She tried to keep the smirk off her face. "I think he said something about an irrigation rig that needed some repairs."

"Oh," the blonde woman muttered. "So, Martha says you two have been married a couple months? Frankly, I'm astonished you managed to get him into bed, considering…"

"Considering what?" As much as Lois loathed Lana's very existence, the thought of discovering something 'Smallvillian' about her husband was overwhelming.

Lana shrugged elegantly. "So, where did you two meet?"

"At work," Lois answered. "Our editor thought we'd make a good team and he was right."

"But it took eight, nine years for you to get together?"

It was Lois's turn to shrug. "Well, he did take off to see the world for about six years."

"And he came back to an instant little family," Lana observed. "So like Clark to take on somebody else's bastard to raise. He always did have a hero complex, getting involved in things better left alone. But then, considering Clark's background, maybe not so surprising."

Lois's eyes narrowed as she regarded the other woman, but Lana didn't seem to notice. "And what about Clark's background?" Lois asked.

Lana seemed surprised at the question. "Didn't you know? He's adopted."

Lois frowned. "And what has that got to do with anything?"

"Well it's obvious isn't it?" Lana asked. "He has this need to prove himself worthy since his real parents obviously couldn't be bothered to keep him."

"Is that what you think?" Lois demanded. "That Clark was discarded by his birth parents? That they just threw him away to be raised by strangers?" Lois had to fight to keep the outrage out of her voice. She wasn't completely successful. "For your information, Clark's birth parents were killed when he was a toddler. This I know for a fact. And if Clark has a tendency to get involved, to care, well, that's how he was raised by his parents, the Kents. And by the way, Jason isn't 'somebody else's bastard'. He's Clark's son."

"Is that what you told him?"

"Since it happens to be the truth…"

"What happens to be the truth?" Clark asked. He was in jeans and a t-shirt and looked like he just came in from working on machinery. He walked into the living room, wiping his hands on a dirty towel.

"Miss Lang doesn't believe that Jason is your son," Lois told him.

"Considering how much he takes after me, I don't think there's any doubt as to who his father is," Clark commented. "Actually, I was thinking how well everybody in town was accepting the idea that maybe I really did get you pregnant and it took me this long to finally get around to making an honest woman out of you. Although I haven't heard from Pastor Linquist yet." He turned to Lana. "So what brings you all the way out here, Lana?"

"I just wanted to make sure you and Jason were okay," Lana stated.

"And the real reason?" Clark asked.

"Do I need a reason to visit an old friend I haven't seen in years?" Lana asked sweetly.

"Were we friends?" Clark asked.

"Of course we were," Lana protested. "We dated through high school."

Clark sighed and Lois could see how difficult this was for him. Clark always portrayed a sweet innocence that it made other people think he was a pushover. And in some ways he was. Lois recalled the now famous photo of Superman rescuing Kitty Kowalski, the bemused, nervous smile he'd had on his face while she was going on about her 'heart problem'.

"Lana, we dated because it suited you to be seen going out with a member of the football team. And you were magnanimous enough to forgive me for being adopted, the same way you _forgave_ me for being different. You even forgave me for being a poor farm hick," Clark stated, an uncharacteristic sarcasm coloring his voice. "But you dropped me when it no longer suited you to be seen with me. When I decided I wanted to do something that didn't involve being Lana Lang's boy toy. When I decided the price of having a little fun in the back of your dad's car wasn't worth what you were going to charge."

Lana eyes had gone wide and the perfectly placed blush on her cheeks stood out in harsh relief as she pulled back her arm and slapped him hard. His glasses went flying.

He didn't bother to rub his cheek as he retrieved his glasses from the floor and put them back on his face.

"I loved you," Lana spat.

"Lana, when you love someone, you don't demand they change everything they are to make you happy," Clark told her. Lois noted that he was speaking in his what she had come to recognize as his 'real' voice: not the high tenor that was 'reporter Clark' or the quiet, confident baritone of Superman, but in between. She came close to him and folded his hand over hers. "Their happiness makes you happy," he continued. "Their grief makes you weep. Their sorrow breaks your heart."

"You always were a fool, Clark. I know her kind," Lana warned. "She's just using you."

"And you didn't?" Martha was standing in the doorway. She stepped into the kitchen carrying a bag of what looked like groceries. "You had your chance a long time ago, Lana. It was your choice. Let it go."

"Good bye, Lana," Clark said and Lois could hear the finality in it.

The screen door slammed behind Lana as she stalked out of the farmhouse. Clark's eyes followed her even when the woman was out of normal sight and Lois knew he was watching her through the walls. Even after eight months of knowing that Superman and Clark were the same person, it was sometimes unnerving to realize how often she had seen him do the same thing at the Daily Planet and not recognize what was happening.

After a moment they all heard Lana's car start and speed down the gravel drive to the main road.

"I cannot believe the gall of that woman," Martha was muttering under her breath as she unpacked the brown paper sack. Instead of groceries she was pulling out wrapped sandwiches and tubs of various salads. The salads had been double wrapped with ice packs to keep them from spoiling in the heat. "After everything she tried to pull on you, and me, I can't believe she had the gall to come into my house and say what she did… in front of Jason, no less."

"It's okay, Mom," Clark said. "Lana's not the first person to try and tell me Lois is no good for me, or that I'm no good for her. And I doubt she'll be the last. But since they have no idea what's really… Well, their opinions don't matter."

"Clark, sometimes you are just too sweet and understanding for your own good," Martha told him sternly, but there was a faint quirk of humor around her lips. She handed him one of the sandwiches. "I know Jason ate at the party, but I don't think either of you had a chance, so I made up some cheese and pickle sandwiches. The potato salad and Waldorf are Maisie's special recipes. I know you used to like them."

"I'm sure they're fine, Mom," Clark assured her. "I know what she tried to do to me, but you never told me what else Lana did after I left home."

"Sit down and eat," Martha ordered. Wordlessly, Lois and Clark sat down at the kitchen table. Martha handed Lois a wrapped sandwich then pulled two plates out of the cabinet and placed them on the table. "Jason, come sit down," she ordered. Jason hurried over and settled across from his mother.

"I'm a good Christian woman," Martha fumed. "We are instructed to love our neighbors…"

"Which is why Lana isn't buried in the back garden?" Clark commented, watching her stab the potato salad with the serving spoon.

"Clark Joseph Kent, I certainly hope I would be smart enough not to bury her on my own property," Martha told him.

"So, what did she do?" Lois asked.

Martha sighed. "To make a long story short, not long after Clark left to go north right after graduation, I found out that Lana had been telling folks that I had been the one to force Clark to leave Smallville. That I had discovered why Clark and she had broken up and I couldn't stand the shame. She even went so far as to imply that was the reason Jonathan had his heart attack. Not that anyone around here actually believed such rubbish. I went and talked to her parents about the stories she was spreading and a few days later she was on a plane to Paris to go to school there."

"I don't understand," Jason complained. "Why was she saying bad things about you?"

"Jason, there are some people who think the best way to make themselves look good or important is by making other people look bad," Clark explained gently. "Miss Lang always liked to be considered important, especially in high school. Her father is a well respected academic and so is her uncle. She'd traveled all over the world, spoke several languages fluently."

"And none of that meant a damned thing when she ended up living in a small farming town in Kansas and it made her furious," Lois continued. Martha and Clark both gave her questioning looks. "Believe me, I know the type," Lois continued. "Your average princess doesn't take kindly to realizing the rest of the world doesn't give a rat's ass about her claim to royalty. Or that the cute boy next door finds her completely resistible."

"You sound like you have some experience there," Martha commented wryly.

Lois shrugged. "Well, some of us are lucky. We learn early that just because Daddy's a king, doesn't make us better than any other peon in the castle. In fact, we have to work that much harder to prove we're just as good."

"Mommy, I thought Grandpa Sam was a general," Jason said.

"He is, honey," Lois told him. "He's a very important man."

"Is Grandpa Sam more important than you or Grandma Martha or Superman?"

"No, but there are times I think he thinks so," Lois told him.

"Jason, the things Miss Lang said..." Clark said. "Try not to worry about it. She's a very unhappy woman and unhappy people sometimes say things that aren't true and not at all nice. Okay?"

"Okay," Jason agreed. Lois could tell he was still bothered. Just one more thing on her list of things to keep an eye on. She wasn't looking forward to explaining to her little boy exactly what Lana Lang had been accusing Clark of so many years ago.

Martha started clearing the table for them. "Oh, dear. I almost forgot to tell you. The cake is in the walk-in at the diner and Maisie and I thought we'd at least do that part at the grange dance tonight… if the three of you are up to it."

"A dance?" Lois asked, glancing at her husband. He hadn't warned her there might be dancing. He grinned sheepishly at her. "Sounds marvelous," she said rolling her eyes. "So what are our plans for the rest of the afternoon?"

-o-o-o-

Smallville Cemetery was a little southwest of town, on a low hill overlooking the train station and grain silos. It was as old as the town itself, a monument to the perseverance of the human spirit. A wrought iron arch over the entrance proclaimed the name of the place and a low iron fence surrounded the oldest portion of the cemetery. The Kents were well represented. Four generations.

Clark and Jason were the only visitors. Most townsfolk, when they came to the cemetery at all, came after Sunday services. The grass was dry but short – someone was at least trying to keep the place neat.

"This place is old," Jason commented, peering at the headstones.

"There are places in Metropolis that are a lot older," Clark told him. "But, yeah, for around here, this place is old." Clark headed in the direction of the Kent family markers and Jason hurried to follow, standing beside the tall man as he crouched down beside one of them: Jonathan Nathaniel Kent, 1936-1989, Beloved husband and father. The other half of the grave marker wasn't finished: Martha Mary Clark Kent was engraved on it but no dates.

"That's your daddy?" Jason asked. Clark nodded. "But why is Grandma Martha's name there? She isn't dead."

"But this is where she'll be buried when she does die. Which will be a long time from now, I hope," Clark told him.

"Do you miss your daddy? I miss Daddy Richard."

"I miss my dad a lot," Clark admitted. "I don't think there's a day that goes by that I don't wish I could talk to him, tell him about you and your mom, about everything that goes on… I think he would be real happy to know you and your mom."

"Grandma says they're not really gone," Jason told him, his expression solemn. He turned to face the headstone. "Grandpa Jonathan, my name is Jason. Jason Samuel Lane Kent. Clark's my dad." Jason took a look around then bent close to the carved granite. His voice was in a whisper. "He's Superman, too. But I bet you already knew that."

"Yeah, I'm sure he does," Clark said with a chuckle.

Jason wandered over to the next headstone. This one was more weathered. Matthew Hiram Kent, 1905-1984; Lucille Baxter Kent, 1910-1963. "Those were my grandparents on the Kent side. Grandma Lucy died a long time before I showed up and Grandpa Matt…" Clark's voice trailed off. How to explain Grandpa Matt? The man had spent his adult life being spiteful and angry, punishing everyone around him. How did he begin to explain to a six year old that fathers and sons didn't always get along? Matt had driven all three of his children to run away from him as far as they could. Only the middle one, Jonathan, had come back to Smallville after his stint in the army.

"Grandpa Matt had a lot of problems," Clark continued. "He wasn't a very nice person." Clark pointed out another nearby stone. "That's my Uncle George. He was a sailor on a freighter. Used to tell all sorts of stories about all the places he'd been to all over the world. Some of them may have even been true. He was first mate on a ship that sank during a big storm in the Pacific. I was a couple years older than you are now when we got word that his ship was lost. My dad's sister Minerva lives in California."

Clark moved to point out an even older headstone: Eben and Sarah Kent. "That's Grandpa Matt's parents. And over there are Nathaniel and Mary, Eben's parents. My great-great-grandparents. Nathaniel was the sheriff of Smallville and he was friends with Wild Bill Hickok."

Jason's eyes grew wide. "He was?"

Clark nodded. "Yes, he was. And Jesse James and his gang passed through here, too."

"But I thought that happened _way_ out west."

"Jason, right after the Civil War, when Jesse James was robbing trains and banks, Kansas _was_ 'way out west'. Dodge City? It's not all that far from here," Clark explained. "But maybe sometime we'll go over to Lawrence and see where Nathaniel's parents and one of his brothers are buried. Nathaniel's father was a newspaper publisher named Silas who moved to Kansas from Boston, and _his_ father was named Joshua, after Joshua Merriweather, founder of the Daily Planet."

"Wow," Jason murmured.

Clark considered how much history Jason was likely to sit through while looking at headstones in a cemetery. That Silas Kent had moved to Kansas with his two oldest sons to print a newspaper and be on the forefront of the abolitionist movement in Kansas and that he had suffered the fate of many publishers and journalists who had spoken out against tyranny over the years – death. That the 'civil' war had been anything but and that the Kents, like many other families of the time, had been divided by the hatreds and fears that under-laid that conflict.

Clark shook his head. This wasn't the time to be explaining slavery or war to a six-year-old. He would learn soon enough about how badly people could use one another.

"Hey kiddo, I think it's about time we headed back."

-o-o-o-

Lois and Martha headed into town soon after Clark and Jason left the house. Lois hadn't seen much of Smallville's downtown the night before and the route to the park hadn't required going through town. In the daylight, Smallville was iconic Midwest, platted out in perfectly square north-south-east-west blocks, the pattern broken only by the river and the railroad.

The city hall and courthouse sat opposite a city park with a white band-stand in the center surrounded by oak, elm, and maple trees. The city hall and park were surrounded by wood and brick one and two story buildings, some of which may have actually dated from the founding of the town. The Ace Hardware looked a little newer than many of the other buildings and Lois remembered Clark talking about Shaw's Malt Shop. There was an Italian market as well as a gourmet market and bakery, a law firm, a bookstore, a florist, a couple clothing stores, two catalog centers, several taverns, and a bank.

"The Kents and the Clarks have been in this area for generations," Martha said, nodding to one of the older taverns in a two story wooden building that looked like it could be a set in a cowboy movie. "The Red Eye was one of the first saloons in the area. My great-grandparents built it and great-grandmother Martha Mayhew Clark ran it after her husband died, passed it along to her sons."

"Who runs it now?" Lois asked.

"My cousin David," Martha said. "He's been trying to get it on the National Historic Register. Folks around here claim Jesse James and his brother shot the place up when they stopped here on their way to Texas after robbing the bank in Kansas City."

"Do you think they did?" Lois asked.

Martha shrugged. "It's possible." The older woman opened the door to the malt shop and ushered Lois inside. "I'm hoping we can sit down, have some iced tea and have a chat, since Clark's occupied with Jason up at the cemetery."

Lois felt her gut clench at Martha's tone. "Sure, I'd like that," she managed to say. She hoped she didn't sound as nervous as she felt. Lois Lane had interviewed mass murderers, uncovered crooked politicians, unmasked criminal masterminds but her mother-in-law was making her wish there was an jet liner crashing into the town so she would have an excuse to go to work and not have to deal with the conversation she was sure was in front of her.

Martha called out to the girl at the counter and ordered two iced teas, one without lemon, as she led the way to one of the back booths. A radio was playing top-forty hits in the background.

"First off," Martha said after they'd settled into the booth. "I promised myself I would never become one of those interfering mother-in-laws who are convinced nobody's good enough for their precious baby." The older woman took a deep breath. "But I do have to admit I'm a little…" she paused as she considered her words "… concerned at how fast the two of you rushed into this. Your… Richard hadn't been in the ground for more than six months."

Lois sighed. This was exactly the conversation she didn't want to have with Martha. It had been bad enough with her own mother just after the wedding. _'You put that perfectly nice man off for five years, lived in his house, ate his food, and then when he's barely cold and in the ground you jump into bed with a man you hardly know and elope with him?'_

'_Richard's been dead for six months, Mom,'_ Lois had protested. _'It's time I got on with my life and I choose to do it with Clark.'_

'_A man you hardly know…'_

'_The father of my child!'_

_That had stopped Ellen Lane cold, at least for a moment. 'Did Richard know he was raising another man's child? Did he know how you were leading him on, using him?'_

'_Mom, I was pregnant when I met Richard. He knew it. If anybody was being used… we used each other.'_

"There's a saying isn't there? 'It's better to marry than to burn?'" Lois asked.

"Considering how Jason came about, somehow I doubt that's the reason," Martha commented. She raised her hand to stop Lois's protest. "That's okay. It really is. When Clark was growing up I was afraid he would never find someone. Then he met you and it was like a light had come on for him, the sun had come out. But I have to ask and I want an honest answer. Would you have even looked twice at him if he hadn't had that other job?"

Lois sat back. She had been expecting the 'you're using him' lecture. "I was looking twice at him even before I figured that part out. He's a brilliant writer, and an even better investigator. He was a puzzle. He still is. And nothing intrigues me more than a puzzle," She took a sip of her tea, taking a moment to organize her thoughts. "But that other job didn't hurt. Superman is bigger than life, powerful, a paragon of virtue, a god. An angel walking the earth. He's safe to lust after. Half the city does it. Discovering that the sweet, gentle man who put up with me at work, who could actually best me in my own court was… Let's just say it didn't hurt his chances with me. Hell…" She noticed Martha's disapproving look and amended her words. "Heck, I threw myself at him. When Perry assigned us to go to Niagara Falls together, I didn't think twice. I don't think he had any idea what was happening."

"He knew," Martha said. "But you… I don't ever want to hear from him that you're using him. I don't ever want to hear that the only reason you agreed to marry him was because of the other job."

"Mrs. Kent, I know we were both under the influence of a psychotropic poison at the time," Lois said with self-depreciating chuckle. "But I proposed to him and he was the one to accept. Of course, it was the only way I was going to get him into my bed. I'd been without a man for over six months. And I chose Clark. So maybe I am using him. My son needs his father and I want a lover and a husband and I think he's happy to be those things. Tell me, is it so bad to be used that way?"

Martha looked at her for a long moment before speaking again. "Do you love him?"

Lois stared at her glass. "I loved Richard. I know it looks like I was simply using him, but I did love him. I probably would have eventually married him if things hadn't gone the way they did, if Clark hadn't come back when he did," Lois told the older woman. "But I'm _in love_ with Clark. I know it's a fine distinction, but no other man has ever looked at me the way he does. No other man has made me feel so… cherished. God knows I'm difficult, pig-headed, you name it and he's so…" Lois made her living with words and now couldn't find the ones she wanted.

"Clark?" Martha suggested with a smile.

Lois nodded. "He's a good man." She finished her tea and waved for the girl at counter to bring over refills. The girl hurried over. Lois gazed out the front window at the street and saw Rachel Harris talking to Lana Lang. Neither woman seemed pleased. Finally, Lana stalked off and climbed into her car. Rachel watched after her then opened the door to the shop and walked in.

"Trouble with Lana?" Lois asked.

Rachel shrugged. "She is some piece of work. But don't worry. Nobody around here's going to believe her any more than they did last time. She's the one who had poison ivy on her backside."

"And you're the one who told everyone what a great time you had _after_ the prom," Martha commented with a grin.

Rachel laughed. "Damn straight."

The radio volume came up. A news report of a dam threatening to give way.

"Mommy!" Jason yelled, running up to Lois. She hadn't seen him come in with Clark. "We talked to Grandpa Jonathan," Jason announced. "Did you know Dad's great-great-grandpa was a sheriff?"

Lois found herself grinning at his enthusiasm. Clark was listening hard to the news report.

"Perry called," he said. "I'll be back as soon as I can." He gave her a quick kiss and hurried out the door.

"Be careful." she murmured.

* * *

**A/N**: The story of Nathaniel Kent and his family comes from **Superman: the Kents**. Jonathan's trouble with his father Matthew comes from **Superman: Birthright**. Other Kent family facts comes from older Superman comics and the mind of the author. 


	3. The Middle Path

Copyright 9/29/2007  
**Clois 100 Prompt**: #070/Monuments**  
**

* * *

Looking back, I have this to regret, that too often when I loved, I did not say so.**  
David Grayson**  
_American Journalist (1890-1990)_

Our own heart, and not other men's opinion, forms our true honor.  
**Samuel Taylor Coleridge**  
_English poet and philosopher (1772-1834)_

All three women watched after Clark as he headed out and disappeared around the corner of the building.

"Funny, I figured you guys were on vacation," Rachel commented. "Not that it's any of my business," she added.

The girl at the counter moved to change the channel on the radio.

"No, leave it, please," Lois called out. The girl grimaced but moved away from the radio. Lois listened a moment: Superman had arrived on the scene. She turned her attention back to Rachel. "I'm not sure Clark knows what 'vacation' means," Lois stated with a chuckle. "Besides, our editor obviously had a hot lead for Clark to look into."

"Hopefully, he'll be back in time for the dance," Martha said. "I would hate for that cake to go to waste."

"I'm sure he'll show up in plenty of time," Lois assured her. "He usually does." _Unless he goes missing for weeks or years._

"I'll see you all tonight at the Grange Hall then." Rachel nodded to Martha and headed out the door.

"Maybe we can finish our conversation later," Lois said quietly, glancing at Jason who had settled next to her in the booth.

Martha reached over and patted her hand. "That's okay. I just wanted some reassurance that the two of you…" She sighed. "That you two didn't rush into this blindly. And I do understand more than you realize. I married Jonathan less than a year after I lost my first husband. David and I hadn't been married very long when he was killed in an accident. Then Jonathan came home from the army and it was like a lock and key fitting together. But still, people said I was using Jonathan to get away from David's parents and mine, to get away from Smallville. But Jonathan never saw it that way, even if his father did. And we certainly didn't move away from Smallville."

"Clark never mentioned you'd had a previous marriage," Lois commented.

"I don't talk about it very often." Martha paused, sitting back in her seat. After a moment: "Clark is happier than I've seen him in years. You've given him something none of us ever thought he'd have. A family, a place to call home, a child. Promise me you'll stand by him, be there for him."

"I'll do my best. And I do love him."

-o-o-o-

Unseasonably heavy rains had threatened to overtop an earthen dam above several small villages perched precariously on the sides of the steep valley. Landslides were threatening the simple houses and farm buildings. Superman reinforced the top of the dam with boulders and compacted dirt and then proceeded to move the villagers and as much of their property as he could to higher ground.

Several of the older women complained vociferously as he carried each one along with their hurriedly stuffed bags of clothes, linens, food and cooking utensils. They complained about being taken out of their homes, that the government in the capital had promised to repair the aging dam and now it was failing, about the roughness of the ride in the pouring rain. He couldn't do anything about the rain and little about the landslides, but he could get the villagers to more stable ground and he could pitch tents at near lightning speed so they could have a dry place to sleep and store what little they had left.

The rest was up to the various government and international aid agencies – with a little prodding from the U.S. and international media. He knew where the nearest Red Cross warehouse was and a quick trip garnered enough shelter and food to keep the refugees in good stead for several days, assuming nothing else happened.

The dam and villages were near the border of two countries that historically had difficult relations. Superman had personally brokered the treaty between them, but that was nearly seven years ago. He wasn't sure exactly what the status was between the two nations was now. That was something he was going to have to check. Latislan and Podansk had been staying out of the news, so at least they weren't actively at war.

"This should get you through the next few days," he told one of the old women, the one the other villagers seemed to look to for leadership.

She shrugged eloquently in the darkness. "We will be all right unless the militia comes. And I doubt they want to drown."

"Is there anything else I can do, little mother?" he asked.

Another shrug. "Can you stop the rain, boy?"

"I would probably only make things worse," he admitted.

"Then we are in the hands of God," she said. "May He watch over you as well, boy."

"Thank you, little mother," he said as he floated away. Then he sped off towards Geneva to let them know where the refugees were waiting out the storms.

-o-o-o-

Lois looked around the hall where the dance was already in full swing. Tables had been set against one wall of the hall and the wedding cake was the centerpiece of the display. There were plates of finger food and cases of canned soda and beer packed in ice. The dancers were in the midst of a line dance. Before Lucy settled down and got married, she and Lois had taken dancing lessons, including country dancing. Lucy thought it would help them get dates. Well, it may have helped Lucy. She had a husband, two ten year old kids, an old dog and a mortgage.

It had taken Lois a lot longer. Lois Lane had been looking for a superman. She found Clark Kent.

She looked down at her new dress and smoothed out the skirt. She hadn't brought any dresses or skirts with her and in any case, all of hers were either business or formal wear. But the little clothing store a block from city hall had a dress that didn't look too bad on her.

After the disaster of the previous night, leaving Jason with a baby sitter was not an option. Martha was showing Jason some dance steps on the edge of the pine dance floor while Ben looked on indulgently from the sidelines.

Clark hadn't shown up yet although GNN had announced that Superman had managed to avert the dam break. Hopefully he would show up soon. Some of Clark's old high school friends were giving her odd looks, including Rachel Harris. The sheriff had shed her pressed khaki uniform in favor of an embroidered skirt and peasant blouse.

"I guess being married to a reporter is a lot like being married to a cop," Rachel said coming to stand beside her. "You know the odds are they won't get into trouble…"

"But there are still a lot of nut cases out there," Lois completed for her. "I look like a cop's wife?"

"It's in the eyes. That look that says 'We have it worked out: he doesn't get himself killed and I don't play the worried spouse,'" Rachel explained. "Who'd'a thunk lil' ol' Clark could get himself into so much trouble."

"He's talented," Lois said with a chuckle. She looked out at the dancers and Rachel followed her gaze.

"Not a bad turnout," Rachel commented. "Lana's already left for Wichita, so you don't need to worry about her spoiling things. Clark is something of a celebrity in these parts. Not just because of that winning pass. He's the hometown boy who made it good in the big city, not to mention knowing Superman."

"We make quite a pair. We even scare Superman."

"That we do," Clark agreed, hurrying over to Lois. "Sorry I'm late. I stopped at the medical center to check on how those two kids were doing." He gave her a kiss.

"And?" Lois prompted. She let her hands linger on his shoulders.

"The doctors are hopeful they'll both recover without too many long-term issues," Clark told her.

"Good."

Martha spotted them and beckoned to Ben, who started tapping a spoon against the beer glass in his hand. The music was turned down and the dancers slowed to listen.

"Now that the guests of honor have both arrived…" Ben began. "First, a toast." He held up his glass. "There is nothing more admirable than two people who see eye-to-eye keeping house as man and wife, confounding their enemies, and delighting their friends."(1)

The audience laughed and lifted their cans of soda and beer to join in the toast.

"And now may I present, the bride and groom, only a little late," Ben said with a grin. "Lois Lane and Clark Kent. And their first dance with us."

Clark took Lois's hand and led her to the center of the floor. The DJ in the corner grinned and the song started its instrumental intro. It was a different song than the one he chose at the reception her mother had given them. Clark took her into his arms.

_Se tu fossi nei miei occhi per un giorno  
Vedresti la bellezza che piena d'allegria  
Io trovo dentro gli occhi tuoi  
E nearo se magia o lealta_

_ If you were in my eyes for one day  
You could see the full beauty of the joy  
I find in your eyes  
And it isn't magic or loyalty  
_  
There was no trace of the clumsy farm boy who tripped over his tongue and feet in the newsroom of the Daily Planet to the combined horror and delight of his co-workers. Clark and Lois spun together across the dance floor, flawlessly in tune with one another. _"I learned from a Nigerian princess who studied ballroom dancing in England." _Clark had told her once. He softly murmured the translation of the lyrics into her ear.

_Se tu fossi nel mio cuore per un giorno  
Potreste avere un'idea  
Di cio che sento io  
Quando m'abbracci forte a te  
E petto a petto, noi  
Respiriamo insieme  
_

_ If you were in my heart for a day  
You would have an idea  
of what I feel  
When you hold me strongly to you  
Heart to heart,  
Breathing together _

_Protagonista del tuo amor  
Non so se sia magia o lealta  
_

_ Protagonist of your love  
I don't know if it's magic or loyalty_

Se tu fossi nella mia anima un giorno  
Sapresti cosa sono in me  
Che m'innamorai  
Da quell'istante insieme a te  
E cio che provo e  
Solamente amore

If you were in my soul for a day  
You would know what is inside me  
That I fell in love  
At that instant, together with you  
And what I sense  
It's only love.(2)  


The dance ended and the audience applauded. Clark and Lois separated, taking a bow to everyone's amusement.

"And now the groom and his mother," Ben announced. Clark took his Martha's hand, speaking to her softly. Finally she accompanied her son to the center of the room. Clark towered over her. He started to slouch and Martha hit his arm. He straightened up, a sheepish grin on his face as the music started. Lois grabbed Ben's hand and pulled him onto the dance floor.

_It must have been cold there in my shadow  
To never have sunlight on your face  
You've been content to let me shine  
You always walked a step behind_

_I was the one with all the glory  
While you were the one with all the strength  
Only a face without a name  
I never once heard you complain_

It was just like Clark to choose that song for the mother's dance, Lois realized. Luckily the hidden meaning was lost on everyone outside the family.

_Did you ever know that you're my hero  
And everything I'd like to be  
I can fly higher than an eagle  
But you are the wind beneath my wings_

_It might have appeared to go unnoticed  
But I've got it all here in my heart  
I want you to know I know the truth  
I would be nothing without you (3)  
_

The song ended and the dancers parted. Rachel called out from the sidelines. "One more toast. Clark, just reminding you what Oscar Wilde said: No man should have a secret from his wife. She invariably finds it out."

Lois laughed and Clark's cheeks turned pink. _I wonder how much Rachel really knows._

Martha grabbed both Lois and Clark, guiding them toward the table with the cake. "I figure now would be a good time, before you disappear again," Martha murmured.

Martha and Maisie had outdone themselves. Lois hadn't noticed the decorated silver cake knife while they were at the park. The ribbons on the knife were the same colors her own mother had chosen for the reception in Metropolis: cream and lavender. Martha had even found the same pattern for the paper plates and napkins.

"You talked to my mother?" Lois whispered.

Martha just chuckled. "Cut the cake so we can get on with this shindig," she ordered.

Chuck had brought a camera and was acting as the 'official' photographer. He snapped photos as Clark put his large hand over Lois's smaller one and they cut the first piece of cake.

**(1)Homer**, _9th century B.C.  
**(2)Cinema Paradiso (Se)**_Lyrics by: Alessio De Sensi, from the album _Josh Groban  
**(3)Wind Beneath My Wings**__, © Larry Henley/Jeff Silbar_

-o-o-o-

The dance was threatening to last until the wee hours of the morning. Lois and Clark begged off early since Jason was so tired he could hardly keep his eyes open.

"You know, despite what happened on the river, I enjoyed this party a lot more than the reception my mother put together for us," Lois told her husband. "And Jason really enjoyed learning about your family. That was all he would talk about after you left. Sheriff Nathaniel and Silas the publisher. I had no idea how important your family was."

Clark chuckled. "I didn't tell him about the family black sheep. Nathaniel's brother Jebediah rode with Quantrill, came to a bad end. He's buried over in Lawrence next to his parents. And I wasn't going to even try to explain the complexities of the Civil War to a six year old. Silas, Nathaniel's father, was murdered in late 1855, shot in the back for being an out-spoken abolitionist. The war started early in Kansas." He sighed, watching the road in front of them. "My dad was a bit of an historian, especially after he found a trunk buried under where the original house was. It was filled with keepsakes, old letters and journals. Dad had it pretty well organized before he died. He was planning to research the east coast part of the family but he never had the chance. Apparently the war split that side of the family, too. There were Kents on both sides at Gettysburg."

"I remember hearing my Aunt Esther talking about one of her great-uncles," Lois said. "He was a slick politician, managed to get elected to the U.S. Senate. From Kansas, as a matter of fact. I remember her saying he was pro-abolition, but he was also a con-man and a womanizer. Aunt Esther disapproved of him." She glanced back at Jason sound asleep in the back seat of the rental car. "I almost wish he didn't have to find out about things like slavery and war. How ideas can turn good men to killing one another."

"But the only way to keep things like that from happening again is to know how they happened in the first place," Clark reminded her. "And to realize there are no simple problems or simple solutions."

They drove on in silence for several miles. "I was thinking," Clark began softly. "It might be a good time to introduce Jason to the _other_ part of the family." He avoided looking over at her but he could hear her heart rate jump, could sense her sudden tension.

"You know what I think about _him_," Lois reminded him.

"And I can't guarantee the AI has changed its little programmed mind about you, either," Clark said. "But Jason needs to at least be aware of that part of his heritage."

Clark pulled the car up to the front of the house. Jason only stirred a little bit when Clark eased him out of the back seat, carried him into the old farm house, and up to his room.

"So, when do you want to do it?" Lois asked when he came back down stairs.

"I was thinking tomorrow morning," Clark said. "After breakfast?"

"A hearty meal for the condemned?"

Clark laughed. "Hopefully it won't be that bad. Plus, we have tonight by ourselves…"

-o-o-o-

Morning came earlier than Lois wanted. Jason and Clark were already up and Lois knew they were hurrying through the morning's chores. She could hear Jason cajoling the chickens to give up their eggs, Shelby woofing along with him.

She showered quickly and dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt – she remembered her last visit. The arctic fortress had been alien and cold, cold in more ways than one. But the evening dinner he had prepared had surpassed her wildest expectations and afterwards she had been astonished to discover she was his first. Despite his inexperience, he had been a gentle, sweet, considerate lover.

But the morning after turned her dream to nightmare.

They had made love again when they first woke up and she fell back asleep afterwards, sated, loved, dreaming about their future together. When she finally woke up enough to get up, she was alone. She heard voices coming from the central chamber and had put on his blue 'Suit' shirt to cover up. It was part of _him_ and it felt good. She walked out to see Clark speaking with the holographic image of Jor-El. It glared at her as Clark protested that he loved her, was willing to do anything to be with her. But the price Jor-El had demanded was high: Superman's existence and the lives of all those Superman could save.

She had seen the pain, the regret in his eyes while he watched the tragedies unfolding on GNN and she knew it was only a matter of time before he realized he had given up too much to be with her and resented the fact. _An eagle cannot live in a cage, even one with bars made of love._ Lois hadn't protested when Clark elected to return to the fortress to see if he could regain his powers, to see if the AI of Jor-El would allow Superman to be resurrected. None of them knew that a miracle had occurred.

And now that miracle was going to meet what remained of his Kryptonian grandfather.

"Ready?" Clark asked as soon as the breakfast dishes were put away.

"You don't think we can wait until he's eighteen, do you?"

Clark chuckled. "I don't think so, no."

Jason was watching them both with wide eyes. Clark sped into the blue and red. After a quick look through the walls to make sure the coast was clear, he led them onto the back porch, grabbed them both around their waists and took off north.

The trip took longer than Lois remembered, but then last time it had just been her and Superman zooming over the cities, plains, and forests of Canada, toward northern Alaska. This time there was Jason to worry about. Even though he was half Kryptonian, he was still a fragile six-year-old.

Jason spotted the fog bank that hid crystal spires sooner than Lois did. The last time she and Superman had landed and simply walked into the structure. This time, he rose to the top of the crystal building and stopped for a moment. Lois heard him speak softly to the air. "Pass phrase: to kill a mockingbird."

Then they dropped through an opening at the topmost part of the structure, where the longest of the crystal pillars met at odd, unearthly angles. She felt an electric tingle as though they had passed through an invisible barrier of some sort.

They landed and Superman set them both on their feet in the center of the main chamber. "Wow," Jason breathed as he looked around in wide-eyed amazement. Lois followed his gaze. The chamber hadn't changed much since last time. There was a rough side chamber she didn't recall, as if something had been broken away, but otherwise it was the same. Clear blue-white crystals of unearthly size and clarity, glowing from an inner light.

It was warmer than she remembered from last time.

"I programmed the AI to detect if I had company with me and to adjust the temperature in the complex to something comfortable for humans," he explained when she gave him a curious look. "I don't mind the cold so sometimes I forget that other people might have a problem with it."

"Did you build this?" Jason asked.

"No," Kal-El told him. Over the past few months Lois had discovered it was easier for both of them if she called him Superman while he was in the Suit in public, even in her thoughts. Clark Kent wore three-piece suits to work and jeans at home. Kal-El was the man who was both of them, someone she was still learning about, the Kansas farm boy who could fly. It was Kal-El standing in the Suit inside this crystal palace.

"My father, my birth-father, sent a Kryptonian version of a computer along with me when he sent me to Earth," Kal-El explained. "It grew this place, kind of like how Luthor grew that island. Only the computer did it right and it stopped when it was supposed to and Luthor did it wrong."

Jason looked around at the chamber, at the various platforms. Again Lois was struck at how much it looked like a lecture hall or a theater.

"Did you live here?" Jason asked.

Kal-El shook his head. "The computer wanted me to. It wanted me to stay here and learn to be a good Kryptonian. I decided that learning to be a good Kryptonian was a little silly since I wasn't living on Krypton, and living on the North Pole was just plain dumb."

"So, what is this place, then?" Jason asked.

"A monument to a dead race," Kal-El answered softly. "A library where everything they knew, everything they were, could survive them, allow others to know them, learn from them. A monument to a proud people who let their vanity get in the way of their survival." Lois watched as Kal-El's expression turned sad and distant and Jason reached up to take his hand, patting it comfortingly.

_They are so much alike._

"You said I was going to meet Grandpa Jor'l," Jason reminded him. Kal-El lifted his son onto his hip and floated up to a platform that extended a little ways into the chamber. He waved his free hand once over an apparently empty spot on the platform and a podium-like console began to grow out of the floor. Lois had thought Jason's eyes couldn't get any bigger, but they were positively huge as he watched the crystal control console appear.

Lois made her own way up to the platform to stand beside them.

Kal-El waved a hand over the console and the crystals began to glow like the walls of the structure, only brighter.

"Father?"

The familiar holographic head appeared, floating in the center of the chamber. The image of a distinguished older man with a thick mane of white hair. "Yes my son?" The voice seemed to echo in the chamber.

"I want you to meet someone." Kal-El nodded, indicating the boy on his hip. "This is my son, Jason."

The image stared at them for a long moment before speaking. "The initial biological scans of the planet Earth indicated that reproductive compatibility was unlikely. You are certain of his parentage?"

Lois answered. "He threw a grand piano across a room. Yeah, we're sure he's Kal-El's son."

The image looked at her. "This is the child's mother?"

"Yes," Kal-El told the image. "Her name is Lois and she is my wife."

"And you live with her as a human?"

"Yes, and no," Kal-El replied. "If you had wanted me to remain celibate, you should have ordered me to become a priest. I thought my father sent me here to save my life and preserve some small piece of Krypton. Was I wrong? Or did he send me here so that Krypton would die with me instead of him?"

"You were sent to this world to be a beacon, to be the light to show them their way," the image stated.

"And to do that, I must deny myself those things every human being has a right to expect? Companionship, children, a life?" He had let Jason down and was clenching the edge of the console so hard that Lois was afraid he might crush it.

"You do not have the right to question my motives or authority," the image stated sternly.

Lois had enough. "If he doesn't have the right, who the hell does?" She found herself shaking in anger.

The image turned its attention on her and she saw Kal-El stiffen as if anticipating the worst. Then the image simply winked out.

"Mommy?" Lois looked down to see her son worriedly looking up at her. "Why was the head being so mean? Didn't he like me?"

"Oh honey, it's not you…"

"Of course it isn't, child…" a very gentle woman's voice said. Lois looked up to see a tall woman standing nearby. She was wearing a long white dress that shimmered in the light of the crystal illumination. Her eyes were the same unearthly blue as Jason's and his father's.

"Mother?" Lois heard Kal-El murmur.

The woman smiled at him. "I must apologize for Jor-El. He was an innovative and brilliant scientist, but he is also very much a traditionalist." She turned and looked at Lois again. "You are Lois. I recognize you from before. I am Lara, Kal-El's mother." She crouched down to look at Jason. "And you must be Jason."

He nodded warily. Kal-El picked him up again and he snuggled into his father's chest.

"I'm not giving them up," he told the woman. "I tried it his way once. I won't do it again."

"You shouldn't have to, my child," Lara said. "But you must understand. Jor-El was not trying to be cruel, or difficult. On Krypton, you would still be considered to be in your minority and under the authority of your father. You would still be involved in your studies. The choice of a life-mate is hardly appropriate for one so young. And having a child so young would be inconceivable."

"We're not on Krypton," he reminded her.

"No we are not," she agreed. "But you are still Kryptonian. You still have a destiny."

"'You cannot serve humanity by investing your time and emotion in one human being at the expense of the rest.' That's what he told me."

"You chose to give up your mission, your gifts," Lara said quietly.

"If you will live as one of them... love their kind as one of them, then it follows that you must become... one of them," he quoted back at her. "I refuse to accept that I must choose one or the other. I won't accept that there's no middle path. I don't accept that I can't have a life _and_ a mission. I love them. Is that so wrong?"

"When you spoke to Jor-El that day, you did not choose the middle path," Lara said gently.

"That wasn't one of the choices he gave me."

Lara smiled, but Lois saw a sadness in her smile. "That was always one of the choices. You were too young to understand it."

"I'm not that much older now," he told her.

"My darling Kal-El, you know that it is not years that make a man wise."

Lois watched as the realization hit him. Jor-El had presented him with two choices: the woman or humanity. But the real solution was the one he hadn't presented to his son – the one that neither she nor Kal-El had recognized that day. The middle path. The path that meant balancing on the knife's edge between family and the world. The path they were on now. For better or for worse.

"Is that why the head didn't like me?" Jason asked softly.

"Oh Jason, no. That's not it at all," Kal-El told him gently. "Jor-El is unhappy with me because I made some very foolish decisions that ended up hurting a lot of people, including your mom. With great power comes great responsibility. And once we take on those responsibilities, we can't simply walk away from them. Always remember that."

"I wanted him to like me," Jason said. "Grandma Martha likes me, and Grandpa Sam does too, even though he doesn't like that I have asthma and I get sick and Mommy didn't marry Daddy Richard."

"I do not dislike you," Jor-El's voice said. Instead of the disembodied head, the image was of a tall man with thick white hair. He was dressed in shimmering clothes similar to what Lara had been wearing. The symbol of the house of El was woven into the fabric of his tunic.

"I was not made aware that my son had fathered a child. I was… surprised," Jor-El said very calmly. He looked straight at Kal-El. "But as you said, we are not on Krypton and to expect you to abide by the rules of a dead world was… inappropriate." He turned to at Jason again. "You do not know me, Jason, but I am your grandfather, Jor-El." The image's expression was softer, kinder than Lois had ever seen it.

"I hope that Lara and I will be allowed to teach you about the world your father was born on," he continued. Jason nodded his head, watching the figure warily.

"Jason," Lara said. "Would you like to know about the games children played on Krypton?"

He looked up at his parents. With a glance at Kal-El, Lois nodded. Kal-El set him on his feet and he followed the image of Lara across the chamber, disappearing into one of the side areas.

"The initial biological scans of this planet indicated a high level of biological compatibility although reproductive compatibility was unlikely due to a number of factors," Jor-El stated. "Lara will conduct the appropriate tests, as well as those normally conducted on a child of his apparent biological age."

Lois stiffened and saw that Kal-El's eyes were on the chamber Lara and Jason had disappeared into. Jor-El didn't seem to notice.

"The child indicated he was considered frail, even for a human?"

"There is quite a lot of kryptonite in the air over Metropolis," Kal-El stated. He had relaxed slightly and Lois relaxed with him.

"That may be a contributing factor," Jor-El said. He looked at Lois. "I understand you and my son are bonded under the customs of your people." His expression was blandly curious.

"Yes. We've been married for ten weeks," she replied. At least he wasn't openly glaring at her for corrupting his son. She linked her arm with Superman's, a possessive move she was certain the computer generated image would recognize.

"And the world?" the image asked.

"I am married to Clark Joseph Kent," she responded. "As far as the rest of the world is concerned, Superman is an alien. He cannot have children by a human woman, cannot have a relationship with a human woman."

"And you are satisfied with this?"

"It's the way it has to be," Lois told him. "If I had married a police officer or an emergency worker, it would be the same. He just has a larger territory to cover."

"And you?" Jor-El asked his son. "Is this arrangement satisfactory? Or do the innocent suffer for your choices?"

Lois felt Kal-El stiffen.

"When I brought Lois here the last time you made a comment, made an assumption I didn't respond to but I should have," Superman said slowly. "You said: 'The people of your planet must be well pleased with you… You have served them faithfully and they are surely grateful for it.' I didn't respond because I didn't have an answer then. I do now." He looked over at Lois and gave her a crooked smile. "Gratitude is a fleeting thing. In a world where all the risk is taken away, all the danger removed, why should anyone be expected to risk anything? Why bother to do what is right when someone else will pick up the pieces? I was doing them a disservice by allowing them to rely on me to keep them safe instead of themselves. The world doesn't _need_ Superman."

"I warned you it was their habit to abuse their resources. That you needed to defend yourself against this. So you allow the innocent to suffer due to this failing?" Jor-El asked.

"The innocent always suffer," Kal-El responded. "All I can do is to help alleviate it and allow others the privilege of doing the same. You also told me to guard myself against vanity and to protect my life as a human so that I would not be at their beck and call twenty-eight hours a day. This is how I choose to do it. With my wife by my side. If you cannot understand that, then we have nothing more to say to each other."

Lois found she had been holding her breath. Even as Superman he was always mild-mannered, self-effacing, rarely even raising his voice- although he did have a dry sense of humor that occasionally showed itself. But mild sweet Kal-El had just faced down the AI representation of his father.

The image of Jor-El seemed frozen in place, unblinking, unmoving. Lara entered the chamber with Jason at her side. Jason was actually jumping with excitement.

"The son becomes the father," Jor-El stated solemnly, coming to life once again as Lara moved to stand beside him. "I know you asked it once, and I did not give it. _We_ give it now. There will be trials and tears. There will be triumphs and rejoicing. But above all this, two souls joined as one in love will make the trials more bearable, the rejoicing more sweet. We add our blessings to those Rao has already given you."

"Thank you, Lois, for allowing us to meet our grandson," Lara added. "As you surmised, the kryptonite increased his fragility, but I believe he will outgrow it, assuming he is no longer exposed to the poison. The Kryptonian portion of his genetics does appear to be fully dominant. That will need to be monitored. His intelligence is quite high, as was expected considering his parents, but his education…"

Lara waved a hand and something slim and square appeared in a small opening in one of the crystalline pillars. Jason ran over to grab it. It was a metallic tablet about the size of a small laptop computer.

"A learning tablet keyed to Jason and Kal-El," Jor-El explained. "It is currently programmed with Kryptonian language, history, and culture."

"Thank you!" Jason was clutching the tablet to his chest.

The two holographic images smiled, faded, and disappeared.

"That went astonishingly well," Kal-El said. There was a bemused look in his face.

"I love you," Lois said. She started laughing. "In ten years or so when, _if_, we catch Jason with a girl in his bed... Promise me you'll be less damnably subtle than Jor-El was and actually _tell_ your son the reasons why you're upset about him throwing his future away on a girl." She watched the growing comprehension in his eyes.

"I was acting like a spoiled child, so he treated me like one."

"And when you stopped acting like a spoiled child…"

"And had workable solutions to the problems he was worried about, he accepted that I'd grown up." He bent down and kissed her. "Let's get out of here. A monument to a dead people isn't exactly the most comfortable venue for what I would like to do now."

"And getting caught doing it in your father's house is never a good idea," Lois added. "I've heard that hay lofts are very popular places for you farm boys…"


	4. Rumors of War

**Rumors of War**

Wars can be prevented just as surely as they can be provoked, and we who fail to prevent them must share in the guilt for the dead.  
**Omar Nelson Bradley  
**_U.S. General of the Army (1893-1981)_

"Have I told you recently how much I love you, Missus Kent?" Clark asked. His voice was husky with want.

"Only a dozen times… but don't stop," Lois murmured. "I like it, Mister Kent." She rolled over on top of him, pinning him to the quilt they'd spread over the hay in the barn loft. "Tell me, how often did you bring your girl friends up here?" She felt his chest rumble with silent laughter.

"Lana preferred the back seat of her dad's Chevy," Clark told her. "And we never went this far."

"Rachel said she had a lot of fun _after_ the prom…"

"At an all night diner over in Great Bend," Clark told her. "We had apple pie and coffee and ended up with the local sheriff's deputy waking us up about dawn in the back of my dad's pickup. We were both fully clothed by the way."

"Somehow, I don't think that was the story Rachel was telling." Lois started laughing again as a blush climbed up his cheeks.

"Lois!"

"Clark, Lois…" Martha's voice called out from somewhere below. "Pastor Linquist is here and Mister White is on the phone."

Lois started laughing. "Busted!" she chortled, handing Clark his jeans.

He just shook his head as he sped into his clothes. "I'll meet you down stairs. If Perry's called the house, it can't be good."

-o-o-o-

Martha simply raised one eyebrow at him as Clark climbed down the ladder to the loft and took the wireless phone from her hand.

"Yes, Perry, what's going on?"

"Have you caught GNN recently?" Perry White's gruff voice came over the speaker.

"Uh, no," Clark told him as he hurried into the house. "I'll have it on in a second." He grabbed the remote from the coffee table and flipped through the channels on the big screen until the familiar faces of the GNN weekend newsreaders appeared on the screen.

"And for those just tuning in: the ongoing territorial dispute between Latislan and Podansk is threatening to deteriorate into armed violence amidst accusations of partisanship on the part of the United States and the neighboring European Union states. This follows Superman's repair of a failing dam yesterday on the Obyarsk River on the Latislan side of the border. This repair is alleged to have raised the river level above that dam well beyond flood stage, causing damage to the Podansk-Obyarskaya hydroelectric facility two hundred kilometers up river from the border of the two nations."

Old archive footage of the Podansk-Obyarskaya dam came on screen, inset with satellite photos of the current situation. It was bad. The river below the massive structure appeared to be a muddy, swirling torrent. The generator houses were nearly underwater.

"Thus far," the newsreader continued, "Superman has been unavailable for comment."

"Well?" Perry asked. Clark knew he was watching the same footage on his office monitor.

"Perry, there's no way the dams downstream could hold if the water is that high at that point. Superman's repair raised the height of the one he worked on by, maybe, a meter…"

More archive footage came on the screen: Superman speaking with General Navance and President Kasparov just after the signing of the border treaty Superman had helped negotiate. The agreement had been finalized no more than a month before he left Metropolis to prepare for his trip to Krypton.

"Superman needs to show his face, make a comment," Perry was saying.

"I'll see what I can do, Chief," Clark promised.

"Trouble?" Lois asked as Clark hit the 'end' button on the phone.

Clark nodded. He studied the photos on the screen as they went back to showing the satellite shots of the hydroelectric plant. "They're blaming Superman for the flooding at the hydroelectric dam."

"And Perry wants the story covered yesterday?"

Clark nodded, lips drawn thin in worry and annoyance. After six years of something resembling peace, the two former Soviet territories should have been able to work out their differences. Instead it seemed they were just looking for an excuse to start killing one another again. He hoped they didn't have nukes, but since they'd both had them at the time they signed their treaty, it was likely they both still had them, even though the treaty had called for them both to destroy their nuclear armaments.

"Do you want me to drive you to the airport?" Lois asked.

"I'll grab my stuff," Clark said, heading upstairs. He reappeared moments later with his carryon bag. He gave Martha a kiss on the cheek. "I'll call when I get in," he promised. He nodded to Linquist standing in the kitchen. The poor man looked confused. He had, no doubt, come over to handle his pastoral duties – to get to the truth about Clark's sudden acquisition of both a wife and child.

But his presence made leaving to handle the problems in Latislan and Podasnk more difficult. Lois started the rental car and Clark climbed into the passenger side.

"I'll grab a cup of coffee at the airport then come back," Lois told him as she pulled the car onto the road. "So is that the preacher who bored you to tears way back when?"

"No. That was Pastor Wallace. This is Pastor Linquist. Wallace retired when I was in sixth grade or so and Linquist was his replacement. Dad wasn't much for church, that was always Mom's thing, but Linquist was okay. He was always a pretty good listener."

"Should I expect the third degree when I get back to the house?" Lois asked, only half joking.

"I hope he'll be more subtle than that."

Lois slowed the car and pulled to the side of the road. Clark got out and sped into the blue and red suit.

"Be careful," Lois ordered.

"I will," he promised before he disappeared over the horizon.

-o-o-o-

Superman's first stop was the area of the dam he had repaired the day before. That dam was holding. In fact, the water level behind it was lower than he'd been expecting. The refugees were safe. There were no elevated heartbeats indicating extreme stress or worry – only the normal stresses of living out of tents instead of their homes. He took care to stay in the darkness, speed slow enough not to generate sonic booms.

He headed up river toward Podansk and the power plant. He spotted the problem – multiple landslides had blocked the channel below the power plant. While the water wasn't as high as the GNN photos had indicated, it was still dangerously high and it was only a matter of time, hours possibly days, before the natural dam was breached, restoring the river's flow downstream. If it happened slowly, and if he could get the biggest chunks of debris out of the way, the chances were good the dams further down the river, especially the Rauvin hydroelectric dam that served most of Latislan, wouldn't be endangered.

He heard voices by the landslide debris, the snick of a switch being thrown. Then there was blinding flash and the concussion of an explosion, followed by several more. Water and debris came pouring over the natural dam. Within seconds boulders were torn from the river bottom, careening toward the earthen dam that protected the valley further down. There was a scream, but it was cut off before he could locate the source.

Superman took a deep breath and blew, freezing as much of the mass of water and debris as he could to slow the rush downstream. The water stopped, but he knew the ice dam wouldn't hold for long.

He flew to the nearest refugee encampment. "Get to higher ground! The dam's going to go!" The people he had rescued from the threatening dam only the night before rushed around, gathering what they could before they ran up the steep paths to even higher ground.

Another explosion. Telescopic vision revealed a military-style helicopter over-flying the ice dam – at least what was left of it. The helicopter fired another missile into the ice dam and the rest of it broke, releasing the torrent of boulders, uprooted trees, and muddy water to head downstream toward the other dams. He took a moment to inspect the helicopter and detected the tell-tale glow of kryptonite in the cabin.

-o-o-o-

"The government of Latislan is claiming over a thousand dead as a direct result of the destruction of the Rauvin dam. Half the country is without power. General Navance is screaming bloody murder," Perry White said quietly. He watched Clark's shoulders sag in resignation. "He wants to know why Superman didn't stop it."

"Superman tried," Clark responded. He didn't bother to keep the disgust out of his voice as he looked up from his monitor. He'd come onto the newsroom floor less than half an hour before to find Perry waiting for him.

"Somebody wanted to make sure that one: the lower river dams didn't make it, and two: that Superman was blamed. The river just downstream of the Podansk-Obyarskaya was blocked by later landslides. Not the raising of the Triel earth dam by a meter. It's possible, in fact I'd say probable, that the later landslides were helped along. When Superman arrived to scope out the situation, the blockage was broken by high explosives. At least one of the men responsible died when the explosives went off."

"Any way to identify them?"

Clark shook his head. "Military style uniforms, no patches, no rank marks. Nothing on the helicopter either. Standard cabin and control layout. All in Russian which doesn't mean much in that part of the world. No aircraft ID visible. For the rest, well Superman was a little busy."

"GNN and the State Department both want to talk to him," Perry reminded him.

"I guess he'll have to show his face then," Clark responded. After eight months, Clark was still getting used to the idea that Perry White, editor of the Daily Planet, _knew_ and was okay with keeping Superman's secrets. It made both of Clark's jobs easier – at least Perry wasn't likely to fire him for disappearing suddenly, sometimes for days, so long as a Superman exclusive came out of it with either Lois Lane or Clark Kent's byline on it. But it was still disconcerting to have Perry calling him on his cell phone and letting him know about emergencies that needed Superman's attention.

-o-o-o-

"Superman's on TV," Jason called out. He was sitting, playing with the device Lara and Jor-El had given him, ignoring the adults sitting around the table in the farm house kitchen.

Lois, Martha and Pastor Linquist hurried into the living room to watch the breaking news. Lois settled on the sofa next to Jason. On the screen Superman was standing in front of a microphone in front of gray drapes with a U.S. State Department seal displayed against them. The hero looked decidedly uncomfortable, hands folded at his waist. A couple of bureaucratic types in non-descript suits stood just to one side of him. Lois spotted Linda King standing in the front row of the journalists that had made it to the hastily called press conference.

"As you are well aware," Superman began, "heavy un-seasonal rains in the mountains of Podansk and Latislan have created severe landslides within the river valley that contains most of the hydropower generation capacity of both nations. Although attempts were made yesterday to shore up one of the critical river control dams, the Triel dam, subsequent slides and human interference has resulted in the breach of both the Rauvin dam and the Triel dam, resulting in substantial loss of life within the nation of Latislan."

"Superman," Linda King called out. "You said human interference? I assume you don't mean yourself?"

"Correct, Ms. King," Superman said, nodding in her direction. "As soon as I arrived on the scene I evaluated the situation. I had a plan for removing the most dangerous debris from the river and minimize the danger to the Podansk-Obyarskaya facility. I was not permitted to implement that plan. Instead, unknown parties set off explosives near that dam, creating an uncontrollable surge of water and debris that overtopped the Triel dam and breached the Rauvin dam, severely damaging the hydroelectric facility there. Attempts on my part to minimize the damage were actively thwarted by parties using unmarked military type equipment."

"So you claim that the accusations being leveled at you by the governments of Podansk and Latislan are completely unfounded?" This from a reporter Lois didn't recognize.

"I regret that I was unable to give as much assistance as the flood situation warranted. Or as much as I wanted," Superman admitted. "However, as many of you are already aware, since my return from Krypton and the events that occurred at that time, I have attempted to avoid places and situations where people are lobbing missiles at me, especially when they have kryptonite. The parties responsible for breaching the dams were in possession of kryptonite."

Lois saw the expressions on the faces of the two government agents turn grim at Superman's statement. Superman stepped aside to allow the taller of the State Department men to take the microphone.

"The United States government has already extended offers of emergency assistance to both Latislan and Podansk..."

"Mommy, was somebody shooting at Superman again?" Jason asked.

"That's what it sounds like," Lois told him.

"But that's not nice," Jason complained.

"No, it's not nice," Martha agreed.

"You like Superman, don't you, Jason?" Linquist asked.

Lois found herself smiling at Jason's answer: "Of course. He's Superman. He can fly and he's friends with me and Mommy."

"And your father?"

Jason looked up at Linquist. "Superman was Daddy Richard's friend, too."

"What about Clark?"

Jason nodded. "He couldn't help Daddy Richard when the bad people came. And then the bad bald man hurt Clark, I mean, Dad… The bad bald man hurt Superman too. That's why he couldn't help." Jason turned and gave his mother a puzzled look. "Mommy, why do people want to hurt Superman?"

Lois sighed. They'd had the same conversation several times, beginning when they both went to visit Superman in the hospital after Luthor's attempt to conquer the planet by misusing Kryptonian technology. "Some people are afraid of him because he's so powerful and he's from another planet," Lois explained. "Other people are afraid he'll stop them from doing the bad things they want to do."

"And some people don't really believe that anyone can be as good, or honest, or helpful as _he_ seems to be," Linquist added. "That scares people too. And scared people sometimes do very hurtful and bad things."

"Dad says: 'People really need help but may attack you if you do help them. Help people anyway.'"

Linquist chuckled. "That sounds like Clark. Jonathan, too, for that matter. I still have the copy of the Paradoxical Commandments he gave me when I first moved to Smallville. It's in my office."

"Clark has a copy of it at home," Lois told him. "And he gave a copy to our boss last Christmas." Lois chuckled. "Perry has it in his office, too."

-o-o-o-

'People are illogical, unreasonable, and self-centered…' the first line of the framed poster read. _You got that right_, Perry thought as he looked out over the bullpen. Clark had come in a few minutes before and was now in the process of booting up his computer. The editor studied the reporter for a long moment. Clark looked worried. Perry suspected it was because of the problems in Latislan and Podansk.

He heaved himself out of his leather chair and crossed the newsroom to Clark's desk. "What've you got?" he asked.

Clark glanced up at him. "More questions than answers. Seven years ago, both those countries' leaders agreed to a peace settlement that included provisions for the Congress of Nations to mediate border issues and oversee the demolition of their nuclear stockpiles. And now they're…" He sat back in his chair frowning in frustration.

"And now it looks like things are worse than before?" Perry asked.

Clark nodded. "Even the weather seems to be conspiring against them. I've never seen flooding like that, not without a hurricane or monsoon being involved. And then to have the dams deliberately breached like that… If I didn't know Luthor was dead, I'd be wondering how much he was involved."

"You know, they still haven't found his body," Jimmy Olsen commented from his own desk just across the aisle from Clark's. "Maybe somebody figured out a way to save his brain..."

"You're trying to give me nightmares, right?" Clark asked. Perry suspected he was only half joking.

"I'm going to ask Eduardo to assign somebody to help you with this," Perry said. Eduardo Valdez had been promoted to the assistant editor slot soon after Richard White's death. International news fell under his purview while Superman was generally covered by Lois Lane and/or Clark Kent. It made for interesting territorial maneuvering in the newsroom when Superman was working overseas – like now.

"Sounds good," Clark said. His tone said he didn't believe it. Perry smiled, taking care that Clark didn't see.

Lois Lane was the second or third best journalist in the world – at least in Perry White's not-so-humble opinion. Clark Kent was second only to Lois Lane. And although they worked beautifully as a team, over the years Perry had determined that neither played all that well with others. Lois had prompted the resignations of a number of promising youngsters who had the misfortune of being partnered with her as they learned the ropes. Clark had shown his mettle by sticking it through – now he and Lois were married. But when Perry had tried partnering Clark with other reporters earlier in his career at the Planet, they too left. While Clark wasn't abrasive or abusive in the way Lois was, he didn't suffer fools gladly. He was polite and outwardly understanding about their errors but he had no patience with those who didn't learn from their mistakes.

Lois Lane was the one, the only, exception to that rule. But then, Lois was one of the best in the business. Her inability to spell words of more than two syllables was legendary – but those weren't mistakes. It was simply evidence that her mind was working faster than her fingers could type and the thesaurus in her head couldn't be accessed fast enough.

Perry spotted the International editor crossing the newsroom to get a cup of coffee. "Eduardo, who have you got working on that fubar in Eastern Europe?"

"Natalia Korchek," Eduardo answered. "She was raised near there."

Perry nodded. "She's working with Kent on this. Get research started on pulling up every thing we have on that area, starting with Superman's involvement in '99." He turned to Clark. "Sunday feature. 'What Went Wrong.' Superman had a peace settlement all sewn up before he took off. What happened?"

Clark nodded. "I'm sure Superman would like answers to those questions."

"I assume we can have Superman's input on this?"

"Shouldn't be a problem," Clark said. "He's supposed to be meeting with some people from the State Department tomorrow."

Perry snorted. "Proving once again that the role of diplomacy is to prolong a crisis?"

"Uh… yeah."

A young woman with dark hair and dark eyes approached them. In her arms was a stack of books, papers and CDs. "Where would you like them?" she asked. Her voice held a hint of Slavic.

"How about you use the spare office," Perry suggested. The 'spare' office was a small room next to the International editor's office. It had been used variously for storage, a temporary nursery, even an emergency flop. Currently it had a worn sofa-bed, a desk, and a computer terminal for visitors to use. It wasn't the most comfortable office, but it would give them the quiet and the room they were likely to need.

Clark nodded and moved to take some of the books and papers from his new 'assistant'. Perry watched after them as they made their way to their temporary station. Jimmy hurried to join them.

"So, I guess you and Lois had some excitement yesterday…" Jimmy was saying.

Perry chuckled to himself and Clark gave him a quizzical look. "AP ran it. 'Visiting hometown hero saves two after freak boating accident'," Perrry quoted. "I'm sure it's posted in the staff lounge by now. By the way, reporters are supposed to cover the news, not _be_ the news."

Clark seemed to start shrinking in on himself as if trying for actual invisibility. Then he caught himself and straightened up to not quite his full height. "Somebody had to do it," he said simply.

-o-o-o-

Clark sighed in frustration. The key to what was happening between Podansk and Latislan this time was somewhere in the pile of documents on the desk. His journalist's instinct said so.

He was familiar with the history of the area – under-populated, land-locked, and barely able to grow enough food to feed themselves much less support the infrastructure required for industrialization. The area had fallen under the 'influence' of the Soviet Union during the height of its power. The Soviet's heavy hand had put a stop to the incessant inter-tribal warfare that seemed to be the primary leisure activity of the hill and mountain people.

When the Soviet Union came apart, the Congress of Nations stepped in to help the region's population make the transition to a democratic and free market society. The area was also divided into two nations along 'ethnic' lines. But the first 'free' elections saw two dictators come into power - dictators of tiny, dirt poor nations who had nuclear weapons thanks to the precipitous withdrawal of Soviet military personnel.

The area settled into an uneasy peacefulness. Both nations discovered that as long as crime and violence was kept to a minimum and the trains ran on time, they could attract tourism. The relatively unspoiled beauty of the mountains, the water recreation areas behind the dams, all attracted Western tourists and cash.

Then a wealth of mineral deposits were found in the areas adjacent to the border between the two nations. Both countries laid claim to the whole of the deposits leading to attempts by both sides to invade and annex portions of the other's territory. That was when Superman stepped in to separate the two sides and to convince them to sit down together to hammer out an equitable solution – a mining trust whose board was drawn from both governments. The trust's sole purpose was to safely mine the ores and market them, equitably disbursing the profits. _The good you do today will be forgotten tomorrow. Do good anyway._

Clark still wondered how he had managed to keep his job at the Planet during the negotiations. They had dragged on for weeks, straining even his unearthly patience_._ And all during that time, Clark Kent had been missing from his desk in the newsroom. He had been sending in stories concerning the negotiations and some of them had actually made it into the paper but it certainly wasn't what Perry had said he wanted him to be doing. He has _supposed_ to have been working with Lois on tracking down the source and impact of 'designer' drugs coming into the city. But Perry never said a word about it when Clark finally made it back to his desk. _Did Perry suspect the truth even then?_

"You know, it looks like the treaty broke down about two years ago," Jimmy commented. "That's when the weather patterns changed. Podansk got hit hardest. Major crop failures, rationing. It was bad. Kasparov wanted to make adjustments in how the money from the mining trust was distributed. Navance wasn't keen on the idea, vetoed it." He handed Clark the series of articles he had been skimming. Clark noted the byline on the series: Richard White.

"Richard was the one covering this?" Clark asked.

"Well, yeah," Jimmy said. "That's one of the reasons Mister White brought him in after Old Man Schmitz retired. While you were covering the story here, he was covering it over there. I remember Mister White saying he would have liked to team the two of you up."

"Well, we both know what happened when he did," Clark commented softly. Richard was dead and Clark had very nearly died at the hands of Lex Luthor.

Jimmy shrugged. "Well, anyway, after you left, Richard got transferred here and became our resident expert on that area of the world. I think he was even planning on writing a book about it."

Clark grabbed the handset for the desk phone and quickly tapped in a number from memory. After a few rings the other end picked up.

"Hello?"

"Mom, is Lois there?"

"Of course…" He heard his mother calling Lois's name and the phone being handed off.

"Yes Clark?" Lois asked, coming on the line.

"Honey, Jimmy says Richard was thinking about writing a book about Latislan and Podansk?"

"Thinking about it?" Lois asked. "He finished his first draft just before… Well, just before you came back."

"You wouldn't happen to know where it is, along with his notes?" Clark asked.

"In the basement file cabinet. In the top drawer," Lois responded. "Why?"

"I'm trying to get a handle on what went wrong over there and I'm not getting anywhere," Clark explained. "There's something missing, something that didn't get into the press, maybe because it couldn't be substantiated – a rumor, an allegation, anything."

"Well, I remember when the reports came in on the drought two years ago, Richard started looking into weather patterns and things like that," Lois said. "He was convinced the weather changes there weren't an act of nature. But he couldn't find any hard evidence to support it."

-o-o-o-

Clark spent the evening reviewing the files in the basement cabinet. After Richard's death Lois and Clark had gone through Richard's files, destroying the article notes that were more than two years old. Two years was the statute of limitation on libel in New Troy and the Planet had a standing policy that general article notes should be held at least that long. Both Clark and Lois also had a habit of holding onto investigation notes far longer – you never knew when a book offer might come by. It seemed that Richard had many of the same ideas.

Lois hadn't gone through Richard's book and investigation notes at all.

The book itself was a very comprehensive history of the region. The last two chapters covered the sources of the more recent hostilities.

_For a culture that came out of the Dark Ages less than a century ago, matured under the weight of the Soviet machine, the sudden acquisition of wealth and technology may not have been the blessing everyone seemed to think it should be. Only the future will say whether their new wealth was worth the price. But so far, only the arms dealers have benefited._

The weather changes of the past few years were mentioned as a contributing factor in the problem. Richard's notes said something else – the weather was the _key_ factor. He had compiled a list of people doing weather modification research and there were hand written notes beside each name – _possible, maybe, retired, dead_…

This was beginning to feel like his and Lois's hunt for the 'Sound Man,' a psychopathic killer who had found a way to turn sound into a deadly weapon. There had been a very short list of researchers capable of building the weapons the Sound Man had used in his attempt to blackmail the city. One had died, one had been in Antarctica and two had been in Metropolis at the time. As it turned out, last two suspects on their list had been working together. And they had both been mad as hatters.

Clark heard sirens in the distance. He listened for a moment – an apartment house fire near Hob's Bay. He dropped Richard's notes on the weather anomalies into his briefcase and sped into his suit. He was in the air almost before the papers settled into the case.

-o-o-o-

Superman arrived on the scene just in time to rescue two firefighters who had fallen through the floor of one of the ground level shops into the building's basement. They were bruised but otherwise unharmed. Some of the other building inhabitants weren't so lucky. An old woman in a wheelchair and two young men – they were found together in one of the back stairwells, overcome by smoke. The basement fire door to that stairwell had been blocked open.

From his own experience, Superman knew that it wasn't really panic that killed people in a fire – it was lack of knowledge and an underestimating of the dangers of fire and smoke. Despite the mythology, humans didn't usually panic in emergencies – they reacted logically given the limits of their knowledge of the situation. It was rarely 'every man for himself.' Parents made sure the children were safe, husbands made sure their wives were rescued. Neighbors looked after neighbors. Superman had no doubt that the two men had tried valiantly to rescue the old woman. They might have even succeeded if the basement door had been shut.

Superman examined the building and then flew through it, chilling the hot spots, attempting to minimize the damage to the rest of the building – not that it was going to save the building. The fire had started in a back storeroom in one of the shops, a small deli, and had spread to the basement that had been home to cleaning supplies and a workshop. From there the fire had gone on to attack the rest of the five-story building. The back stairwell had acted as a chimney, spreading the smoke and heat throughout the building.

He reported his findings to the fire marshal as soon as the fire was out and the fire crew began collecting their hoses.

"This is the fourth fire in as many months in this same building," the fire marshal told him. She had introduced herself as Caroline Oswald. She was one of the 'new' people, officers who hadn't been in place when he left for his ill-advised trip to Krypton. Metropolis hadn't had any female fire marshals when he left and only a handful of female firefighters. Now Metropolis had over a dozen women filling those positions.

"You're thinking arson?" Superman asked.

She shrugged and he sensed she didn't want to voice her suspicions.

"I didn't detect any accelerants usually common to arson," he told her. "But the storeroom where the fire started had a lot of flammables. Cases of potato chips, cooking oil, that sort of thing."

"Figures," Oswald muttered running her hand through her hair. "I hate cases like this." She looked back over her shoulder at a woman with a young boy standing near one of the fire engines. The woman looked like she was in shock. The boy was watching the fire-fighters with open adoration.

"The woman owns the shop where the fire started," Oswald said. "The boy's her son. Maybe now we can get him into early intervention."

"You don't think…?" Superman began to ask and then realized that was exactly what she was saying. He had read that arsonists started young, but this was the first time it really struck home. The boy was younger than Jason and, if Oswald was right, he was responsible for the deaths of three people.

"I see," Superman said. "I'd better get going…"

"Thanks for the assist, Superman," Oswald said as he lifted off. He gave her a little smile and a wave before sweeping away, above the buildings. He circled high above the city then dove between the skyscrapers to foil any attempts by radar to track him as he headed toward the Daily Planet.

As much as he hated it, a fire with deaths was newsworthy and he was a reporter. The one thing he wouldn't - couldn't - write about was that the suspected arsonist wasn't even in kindergarten yet.

-o-o-o-

Clark turned in the article on the fire to the night editor and then settled onto the worn sofa in the side office to read through Richard's research papers. One name on Richard's list of weather researchers jumped out at him – Professor Clyde Mardon. Although Richard's notation indicated the man was dead, there was a question mark beside the name as well. There was also something familiar about the name Mardon.

Clark dredged the name up from his memory. Before he had left for Krypton, Superman had been involved in the apprehension of a minor criminal by the name of Mark Mardon. Mardon had robbed a convenience store and started to pistol whip the cashier. It was a simple assault, hardly requiring Superman's intervention. He had simply been in the neighborhood and the police showed up within minutes. But there had been something 'creepy' about Mardon that had stuck in his mind.

A quick search of the Daily Planet database revealed that Mark Mardon's criminal career had escalated into murder, but he had managed to escape custody while being transported to the prison. Speculation at the time was that he was one of Lex Luthor's cronies but Luthor himself denied it.

The search also revealed the reasons behind the question marks Richard had placed by Clyde Mardon's name. Clyde Mardon, a Nobel laureate researcher, had been Mark Mardon's older brother and although nothing could be proven, the speculation was that Mark had murdered his own brother to gain access to his research on weather manipulation. Soon after Professor Mardon's death there was a series of bizarre deaths in the town where Mardon's lab had been – people killed by lightning on perfectly clear days.

Another search on bizarre weather related deaths over the world yielded interesting results. There was a pattern of lighting deaths crossing the world. The last recorded death was in Latislan two years before – a few months after the weather changes were noted in the area. Coincidence? Clark didn't think so.

It was too early to call STAR Labs to see if they knew anyone who was following up on Clyde Mardon's research. Nothing in Clark's web search, or his search of the Daily Planet archives, indicated anyone was continuing his work but Kitty Faulkner would know. And if she didn't, Lucius Fox over at WayneTech would know.

Clark settled back to wait for STAR Labs' offices to open. Lois and Jason would be arriving at Berkowitz later in the morning. Clark suspected Lois wasn't going to too upset with their vacation being cut short a few days. He was actually a little surprised that she had managed to handle staying at the farm as long as she had. Lois didn't tolerate boredom very well.

-o-o-o-

Lois breathed a sigh of relief as the airliner took off from Wichita. A couple hours and she and Jason would be back home in Metropolis. It wasn't that she disliked Smallville, or staying at the house where Clark grew up. Martha Kent was charming and she adored Jason. And the tidbits and insights into Clark's childhood had been fascinating. Jason had adored everything about the farm, including being chased around the farmyard by the chickens and the aged Shelby.

But Smallville wasn't Metropolis and Lois missed the city almost as much as she missed her husband. And she missed her husband. His mom's farmhouse hadn't been the most private place they could have stayed while visiting Smallville. She was glad to be out of there, away from prying small town eyes.

Pastor Linquist had been polite. Apparently Martha had briefed him on what had been going on in Clark's life, including his abrupt acquisition of a wife and son only six months after his return from a nearly six year sabbatical overseas.

"So, Jason, where do you go to Sunday School?" Linquist had asked. He had avoided any probing questions about Lois's relationship with Clark or Jason. He probably thought Sunday School was a safe question.

Jason rolled his eyes. "Sometimes I go to Sacred Heart when Dad goes. Sister Mary Frances likes Superman and so does Father Daniel. Mrs. Costerman didn't like Superman when I went to _her_ Sunday School."

Lois caught the look of consternation that crossed Martha's face. Apparently the older woman hadn't briefed her minister on the fact that Clark was considered a member of Metropolis's Sacred Heart parish and had been for nearly ten years. Lois imagined it was a little embarrassing for Martha since she knew the older woman was a staunch Methodist.

Superman had no religious affiliation. Clark was still fundamentally Protestant, but the community at Sacred Heart had been comforting and accepting when he'd needed it most, soon after his arrival in Metropolis. Lois knew he still had nightmares about the fire at the daycare center.

Lois's parents had been nominally Roman Catholic – at least that was what they put down when religious affiliation was asked for on various forms. But they had rarely made Lois or her sister attend church. The occasional Easter service was about it and even then there was something more political than religious about their attendance.

Lois considered herself agnostic but had attended church with Richard for Jason's sake – even though Jason had hated every moment of going to Sunday School at their neighborhood church. The 'church ladies', most notably Mrs. Caroline Costerman, had disapproved of Lois's relationship with Superman, had disapproved of Lois living with her fiancé without benefit of a marriage license, and had disapproved of Jason asking his own probing questions – especially questions Costerman couldn't answer.

Linquist had smiled at Martha's discomfort. "I'm glad Sister Mary Frances likes Superman and I'm glad you like Sister Mary Frances," Linquist told Jason sincerely. "I'm sure you ask a lot of questions. I know Clark did when he was your age. And you _are_ the son of two prize-winning journalists." He glanced at Martha. "We both know Clark stopped attending services because he didn't want the hypocrisy of those who claimed to be faithful to destroy _his_ faith."

He glanced at the television. GNN was still running coverage of the disaster in Podansk and Latislan, and Superman's press conference. "Tell me Lois, you know _him_ better than anyone, what does he believe in?"

Lois tried not to let her surprise show. She hadn't expected to be quizzed about Superman's religious beliefs. She took a moment to consider her answer. "Truth and justice and the best that humanity has to offer. He loves life. "

Linquist nodded to the television. "Will he be able to stop that?" On the screen Navance and Kasparov were posturing, blaming each other - and Superman - for the disaster.

"I know he'll do his best," Lois had told him. "But I don't know what he'll do if they start shooting at each other. I don't know what he _can_ do."

"Mommy," Jason asked, interrupting his mother's thoughts. They were approaching "Will Superman be able to stop those bad men?"

"Honey, they aren't bad men," Lois said gently, folding over her copy of the Daily Planet. Clark's story on Superman's press conference was on the front page, although it was below the fold.

"Then why are they saying bad things about Superman?" Jason asked. GNN's coverage of the crisis had abated somewhat, but it was still emphasizing the negative comments that had been made against Superman.

"Sometimes when bad things happen people look for someone to blame, even if that person had nothing to do with it," Lois explained. "And sometimes, even when they realize they were wrong, they're too proud to admit it so they keep blaming the wrong people. General Navance and President Kasparov aren't bad men. They just don't have all the facts and they need someone to blame."

"Will there be a war?"

"I don't know," Lois admitted. "I hope not. Why?" It wasn't like Jason to pay so much attention to world events, even though they had always been discussed over dinner. Richard's focus had always been international affairs. Now, Lois and Clark tried hard to keep discussions of their own city and crime beats out of the house. World events, history, and science, were safer subjects for a house with a young child.

"Wendy's mommy had to go to Taza… Tazra…"

"Tazarastan?"

He nodded, head bobbing like a toy. "She was in the army and she went to fight and she didn't come back. You're not going away to fight, are you?"

"I'm a reporter, Jason," she said gently. "Reporters don't go to war to fight and Uncle Perry wouldn't send me anyway. I have you to take care of." It wasn't the entire story, but the truth was complicated. Before Jason, she would have jumped at the chance to cover a situation like that in Latislan and Podansk. Even if she hadn't been assigned to the story she would have found a way to go. War was exciting, an adrenaline junkie's wet-dream, although she was loath to admit it even to herself.

Now… now she was torn. She wanted to cover the story. She wanted to cover Superman handling the situation in his unique way but she had a family to worry about – and so did he. So she would keep the home fires burning while Clark no doubt covered the upcoming war. That was assuming he failed to stop it as Superman.

"Mommy, Dad won't go away to fight, will he?"

Lois pulled Jason close. "No, honey. Even if he does go there, reporters fight with words, not guns." _But it doesn't make it any less dangerous_.

-o-o-o-

Clark sighed. The situation in Latislan and Podansk seemed to be deteriorating despite the best efforts of the U.S. State Department, including two former U.S. Presidents noted for their diplomatic successes. And Faulkner claimed to know nothing about Doctor Mardon's research, or who may have picked up the pieces to continue his inquiries after his death. She had made the suggestion that WayneTech and LuthorLabs may have had an interest in Mardon's research.

"LuthorLabs?" Clark asked. As far as he knew, Lex Luthor's empire had been broken up more than ten years before – well before Superman's arrival in Metropolis – after Luthor's mental disorders became obvious and dangerous. His formerly compliant board of directors and previously uninvolved family had ousted him, taking of the reins of his companies and breaking them apart. LuthorLabs had been given over to a cousin. Both the cousin and the company dropped off the radar shortly thereafter.

"LuthorLabs had a number of government contracts that kept them afloat after being spun off," Faulkner explained. "Body armor, high tech weapons, that sort of thing. Nothing spectacular. Not like when Luthor was top of his game. But they do have a reputation of funding oddball research."

"And WayneTech?" Clark asked.

Faulkner had chuckled. "Mardon's work was certainly weird enough for the Gotham bunch. But Fox is the one you want to talk to."

Clark sighed again. He was now waiting for Lucius Fox to return his call. He knew Fox was a busy man. Running Wayne Enterprises wasn't a job for the faint of heart or weak of mind. Fox was neither and answering questions about an obscure researcher wasn't going to be high on Fox's list of things to do, particularly questions from a mere employee of one of Wayne Enterprises' less profitable subsidiaries. While Clark had been on his fool's errand to Krypton, Wayne Entertainment had acquired the Daily Planet from Franklin Stern who had been unenthusiastic about supporting an old medium.

The phone on his borrowed desk rang, breaking into Clark's reverie.

"Clark Kent," he responded. The caller ID screen indicated the caller's identity was being blocked.

"You know Boy Scout, I'm a little miffed you didn't call me directly about Mardon," Bruce Wayne stated without preamble.

The last person Clark had expected to call him directly was the Prince of Gotham. Clark knew that Bruce was at least as busy as he was, maybe even more so. Gotham City was not as inherently law-abiding as Metropolis was. And even playacting at being a womanizing sot was a full-time job in itself.

"Well, I didn't want to bother my boss," Clark said.

"So you'd rather bother Lucius?" Bruce asked with a chuckle. "Not bright, farm boy. He's a very busy man."

"So he passed it off to you?"

"Well, I didn't have much else going on today," Bruce said with another dry chuckle. "My polo game was cancelled." His tone turned more serious. "My people have been looking into the weather mess over in Latislan and Podansk. White's hunch was right. The change does not appear to be from natural phenomena."

"You know about Richard White's research?" Clark asked. He knew he shouldn't be surprised. Bruce Wayne was one of the finest detectives in the world, even if the world didn't realize it. He knew more about what was going on in his world than most spy-masters.

"White contacted some of my people well over a year ago, asking questions about Mardon's research. It was enough for me to put some people onto looking into the possibility that someone was taking a bad situation and making it worse by manipulating the weather."

"And?" Clark prompted.

"And everyone knows that war is good for business," Bruce said. "Arms imports in the region is up by more than five hundred percent… the governments, the militias, they all want in on the action. One false move and it all blows up."

"Any ideas on who wants to light the fuse?"

There was a snort from the other end of the line. "Who doesn't want it lit? The current administration wouldn't mind another little warfront to get everybody's mind off the economy and terrorist threats it hasn't been able to handle. The arms dealers need their markets and places to test their wares. Even biotech will have their hands in once it starts… all those lovely trauma victims to test their newest techniques on. There're even a couple of news organizations who seem to think a nice little war will do wonders for their numbers."

"I don't remember you being such a cynic," Clark commented mildly. That wasn't quite true. Ever since he'd known him, Bruce had been a cynical observer of the human condition.

Clark had faith that most people were honest and honorable and just needed reminding to do what was good and right, and that truth and justice were the linchpins of civilized society. Bruce's view had always been far darker. For him evil and wrong were mortal foes in an ongoing battle with overwhelming odds. For Bruce, the war in heaven hadn't ended and there was no guarantee the angels were winning. But now Bruce's tone was laced with bitterness.

"You were gone a long time, Boy Scout," Bruce said. "The world isn't what it used to be."

"So I keep being reminded."

"I'll have Lucius send you copies of our most recent research on the subject and our analyses of the situation," Bruce said. "I'll also have him send what we know about what LuthorLabs is up to. They got a large influx of cash not long after Luthor started wooing the widow Vanderworth."

"Do you think Luthor was masterminding this mess?"

"Wouldn't surprise me if he was," Bruce said. "Do you think the big guy can get them to stand down?"

"Navance and Kasparov were both good men in a bad situation," Clark said. "I'm hoping that hasn't changed and if they can start talking again, they can come to a peaceful solution and save their people. If not… They both have nukes."

"I know. I also know they're not just aimed at one another."


	5. Honor

Honor is unstable and seldom the same; for she feeds upon opinion, and is as fickle as her food.  
**Charles Caleb Colton  
**_English Cleric (1780-1832)_

Lois and Jason collected their bags from the carousel and looked around for Clark. He had promised come pick them up, or at least call if something came up so he couldn't. But there'd been no call, and Clark was nowhere to be seen.

She checked her phone again. "Come on, Clark, where are you?" she muttered to herself.

"Mommy," Jason said, pointing to a television monitor at the far end of the concourse. Lois could barely make it out but it looked like it was running GNN and a jumbo jet was sitting in water somewhere. She hurried toward the monitor to see action more clearly, Jason in tow.

More people were realizing something was happening on the news and were beginning to crowd around the overhead monitor. Someone turned up the sound.

"… just moments ago, Air France's flight 733 lost all power, forcing the crew to crash land the plane in the West River. As you can see behind me, Superman is already on the scene, helping rescue crews bring injured passengers to shore. We've been assured that all the passengers and crew have been evacuated from the plane and there are only minor injuries, thanks in part to Superman's timely arrival…"

Lois sighed. If she hadn't been officially on vacation, she would have been heading for the scene, preparing her questions, getting ready to dig in to find out _why_ a jumbo jet had landed in the West River.

"Mommy, are we going to work or home?"

_Work or home?_

"Work," Lois decided. Vacation or not, there was a story to cover.

-o-o-o-

Birds damaging jet engines was not usually news. Geese and other birds were frequently found near airports despite efforts to discourage them and being close to the airport meant that unlucky birds were occasionally sucked into equally unlucky jet engines. As expected, the birds died, but the affected engines rarely fared much better. Fortunately, commercial multiengine planes were engineered to be well able to make it back to the airport on only half power.

But Air France's flight 733 out of Berkowitz International hadn't been lucky, and neither had the flock of geese that had risen from the ground right in front of it. In an astronomically unlikely turn of events, the Airbus A330 had taken not one but two bird strikes, one in each of its Pratt & Whitney PW4000 engines, only minutes after take-off.

Clark heard the mayday call from the pilot and Superman was out the window of the side office he'd been working in almost before the pilot was finished declaring an emergency.

A quick scan of the airspace around Berkowitz showed that air traffic was too heavy to simply grab the plane and take it back to the airport. The other close-by airports were in similar straits and Metropolis was not noted for its wide open spaces.

The plane was gliding over the West River and Superman could tell the pilot was fighting to keep the plane in the air even without power. Miraculously, there was a clear area and the plane set down on the water, sending up white spumes as it slowed to a stop. The plane threatened to slew around into one of the ferry boats and Superman gently steadied the plane as he guided it closer to shore.

Nearby boats were already hurrying closer. The emergency doors over the wings opened and the plane's crew directed the passengers out onto the wing where they could be reached by the boats for evacuation.

"Any injured?" Superman asked one of the crew who was helping people out of the downed plane and into boats.

"Just minor bumps and bruises," she told him. "Nothing serious."

It didn't take long for Superman to get rescue crews out to the plane and the uninjured passengers off. The last people off the plane were the cockpit crew. Captain Pryzhak, the pilot, made sure everyone was off before he allowed Superman to take him to shore.

"Sorry I couldn't get here sooner," Superman apologized.

Pryzhak shook his head. "My ship, my responsibility," he said. "But, uh, thanks for not letting our tail slam into that ferry. Might have been messy."

"No problem. Glad to be of service," Superman said. "That was some neat flying by the way. Not many people could have brought that bird down safely, at least not in the middle of the West River with both engines out."

Pryzhak chuckled. "That's why we have simulators, so we can practice _before_ we need it."

The passengers and crew were all safe and it would be up to the authorities to investigate the accident and deal with the plane although if his services were needed to speed up the process he'd certainly make himself available. Superman smiled and floated away, but before he could launch himself into the air, he spotted a pair of familiar figures on the shore.

He dropped down close to Lois who was deep in conversation with one of the flight attendants. Jason was ignoring the adults, watching the plane floating in the water instead. But his little face lit up when he caught sight of Superman coming to Earth.

"Ms. Lane, I thought you were on vacation," Superman said, swallowing his grin. Lois simply couldn't stop. Even when she was supposed to be taking time off, she was still hot on a story. He was actually a little surprised she hadn't tried to dig into things in Smallville – not that there was a lot to find.

"Not everyday a plane lands in the West River," Lois responded. She thanked the flight attendant for her time and put her recorder in her pants pocket. "Besides, my husband seems to have gotten caught on something and couldn't pick us up at the airport."

"And the plane was on the way home?" Superman asked. This time he didn't bother to hide his smile as she looked around to see if anyone was watching them.

"I missed you last night," she murmured, placing a hand on the raised crest on his chest.

"The situation in Latislan and Podansk isn't getting any better," Superman said. "I'll tell you more tonight."

"Maybe I don't want to wait," Lois said, moving closer. It was a dangerous move, being so close in public. Publically Lois Lane was married to Clark Kent although the tabloids still occasionally published speculations that Lois and Superman were still an item. It wasn't smart to feed that fire.

He extended his hearing. No one seemed interested in them although with all the cameras clicking away at the plane he might not catch that one was pointed at them. Lois placed her hand in his and handed him a locker key.

"The luggage is still at the airport," she murmured. "Yours is still at your mom's."

He leaned close to her ear. "I'll pick it up in a little bit."

There was an odd hitch of breath somewhere in the crowd. He swung his head around to see who it was but the crowd of sight-seers around the plane was too thick. It was impossible to pick out which individual had made that sound.

"What's wrong?" Lois asked.

"I'm not sure but I think someone was watching us," he said.

"Who?"

"I don't know," he said. He didn't tell her that there had been something oddly familiar about the sound, that maybe he knew the person who had been watching. "I have to go."

-o-o-o-

A pair of diamond hard eyes watched as Superman lifted off, watched as Lois Lane collected her son and headed for the street. The pictures of Lane with Superman were in the little digital video camera she'd bought at the airport gift shop – video that would show that the honorable and upright Superman had an interest in a married woman. And that married woman returned that interest. The hand on his chest, the sly handing over of a key – those were not the acts of a friend but of a lover planning a tryst behind her husband's back.

She flipped open her cell phone and placed a call to someone she knew at the _National Inquisitor_. Money wasn't the object – although she was sure the _Inquisitor_ would pay well for proof that Superman and Lois Lane weren't just 'friends'. No, the object was the Truth – Superman was not the vaunted incorruptible hero everyone thought he was and Lois Lane was a two-timing floozy that didn't deserve what she had.

And with any luck, by tomorrow the world would know it as well.

-o-o-o-

"You're awfully quiet this morning," Lois commented as they drove to the Daily Planet.

"I can't shake the feeling we were being watched yesterday," Clark admitted. "Plus there's the whole thing with Latislan and Podansk. I can't help feeling they're being pushed into this."

"Haven't they agreed to allow Superman mediate for them again?" Lois asked. That had been on GNN earlier in the morning. In fact Kasparov and Navance were scheduled to come to Metropolis for the meetings.

"That's not going to mean much if we can't get a handle on what's really happening," Clark reminded her.

"Did Richard's notes help at all?"

"Yeah, and WayneTech is sending me some stuff as well," Clark told her. "In the meantime, Superman has to keep them from blowing each other off the map."

"Can he do it?" Lois asked.

"I don't know," Clark admitted.

They dropped Jason off at the new daycare center on the third floor and made their way to the elevators that would take them to the newsroom floor. In the elevator Lois started to get the feeling that people were avoiding looking at her. She checked herself over. Her blouse was properly buttoned and since she was wearing trousers her slip couldn't be showing.

"Do I have something stuck in my teeth?" she whispered to her husband.

He looked her over and shook his head, frowning. She was comforted by the fact that he had noticed something wrong, too. It wasn't just her imagination.

Lois opened the door to the newsroom and walked in, Clark trailing behind her as was his habit. The newsroom was buzzing as usual but then the noise stopped as if a switch had been thrown. Several of her co-workers glanced her way then hurriedly busied themselves with their phones or computers.

"Okay, what's going on?" Lois muttered.

"I have no idea," Clark murmured back as they headed for their desks.

Jimmy swiveled in his chair. "You guys haven't seen this morning's _National Inquisitor_ have you?"

"Why would we?" Lois asked.

"Or the _Dirt Digger_?" Jimmy asked.

"Of course not," Clark answered for her. "Jimmy, uh, what's going on around here?"

Jimmy lifted up a copy of the _National Inquisitor_. On the frontpage was a photo of Superman apparently nuzzling Lois Lane's neck. A close-up of their hands revealed that a key was changing hands. The headline read 'Hero and Reporter – Keys to a Tryst?'

"Oh my God, you were right, Clark," Lois murmured. "Someone was there."

"You mean this isn't a fake?" Jimmy asked.

"No, but it isn't what it looks like either," Lois said.

"It looks like somebody wasn't thinking with their brains," Jimmy said. Lois was surprised at the asperity in his voice.

Perry opened the door to his office. "Lane, Kent. In my office."

With mounting trepidation, Lois and Clark headed for Perry's office. It was never good to be called into the E-in-C's office first thing in the morning, especially when the blinds were drawn.

"Chief, first of all, it's not..." Lois began. Then she realized Perry wasn't alone. Sitting in one of the chairs opposite Perry's desk was a tall dark-haired man in an expensive business suit – Bruce Wayne.

"Don't even try," Perry warned her. "That said, this thing's already blown up beyond all reason. Now, the _Planet_ hasn't taken an official position yet – but I can't sit on my hands much longer. The fellows upstairs…" He nodded in Wayne's direction. "… are breathing down my neck to get this mess cleaned up ASAP." He glowered at her. "So, what do you want me to do? What do we print?"

Lois shared an uneasy look with her husband. "I have absolutely..." she began.

"... no idea," Clark completed.

"Maybe a statement from Superman?" Bruce suggested. "Explain what was really happening when that video was taken."

"Explain what?" Clark asked. "That they weren't setting up an assignation, but Lois was asking Superman to pick up her luggage from the airport? Please, tell me which one sounds better?"

"Since you put it that way…" Bruce said with a chuckle. "But what about the witnesses who allegedly saw Lois checking into a hotel and Superman landing on the balcony of her room?"

"They're lying," Lois stated. "Why would I check into a hotel when I have a perfectly good house where I was with my husband?"

"Do _you_ have any witnesses?" Perry asked. "Pizza delivery, anything?"

Lois shook her head. "After Jason and I left here I went to the grocery store and then home. Clark got home maybe an hour after I did. We had dinner and watched a DVD. What we did after that is nobody else's business."

Perry sighed. "Okay. Here's what we're going to do. Until Superman feels he can make a statement, the _Planet_ is not going to dignify those rags by spreading their accusations. But kids, you really need to be more careful."

"What we need to do is find out who took the video and gave it to the _Inquisitor_," Bruce said. "There's no attribution on the video or the photos taken from it and I'm reasonably certain a legitimate source would want credit if only so they could get on the interview circuit. So, who would gain from destroying Superman's wholesome image?"

Lois shook her head. "That could be anybody. Someone who wants to interfere with the peace talks, some nut job…"

"Um, the publisher of the _Inquisitor_?" Clark added.

"Randolph Goode?" Bruce asked. "The King of Sleaze?"

"Well, um, yeah," Clark said. "He was trying to clean up his personal image. Before Superman left for Krypton, Goode was in contention for the Metropolis Man of the Year Award. He lost out to Superman mostly because Superman had successfully negotiated the treaty between Podansk and Latislan. Goode wasn't exactly a graceful loser about it. He actually made threats. But, um, there's also the possibility that Superman isn't the real target."

"But a smear campaign against me isn't going to gain anybody very much," Lois pointed out. "I can certainly ride it out."

"Unless it escalates," Bruce said. "And if someone really is out to get Superman, or Lois Lane, it _will _escalate."

There was a knock on the door then Jimmy peeked his head in. "It's all over the talk shows. And everybody, and his sister, is claiming to have seen Lois and Superman together, including Lois's housekeeper and Jason's nanny."

"But I've never had a housekeeper or a nanny," Lois protested.

"Thanks, Olsen," Perry said. He turned back to Lois and Clark. "I'd say this was escalating. Fast."

"I'll get my people to look into that video and the alleged witnesses," Bruce said. "With any luck, we can prove that the eyewitness accounts are part of an orchestrated smear campaign and things will die down fast."

"But that may take a few days," Clark pointed out. "We may not have that long." He nodded to the television monitor on the credenza. On the screen was a grim-looking Brock Thompson, GNN's senior news anchor, sitting at his desk. Perry grabbed the remote and turned up the volume.

"It appears at this hour," Thompson was saying, "that the leaders of Latislan and Podansk have called off the peace talks, claiming that Superman can no longer be trusted. War appears inevitable now..."

"We need to figure out who's pushing those buttons and fast," Clark said grimly, turning to Bruce. "What about the research I asked about?"

"I have it, and some other stuff I found that might be pertinent," Bruce said. "Let me make some phone calls and I'll be right back with you."

With that dismissal, Lois left Perry's office to head back to her desk as Clark headed to the little office he was working out of.

The noise level in the newsroom still wasn't where is usually was. Lois chose to ignore the dour looks in her direction as she settled in at her desk and booted up her computer. She'd been the subject of dour looks before – when Richard announced their engagement and the wags decided Lois was nothing more than a gold-digger after the boss's innocent nephew since her career was on the skids following Superman's disappearance. The fact that none of it was true didn't matter. It was the perception that that was important. She'd also gotten disapproving looks when she came back to work after Jason was born. She had come back to work and brought her baby with her.

Perry had no objections to the arrangement. Jason stayed in Richard's nearly sound-proof office under his daddy's watchful eye. The objections came from people who didn't even know her or Richard. Who would have thought that, in the Twenty-First Century, there were still people who objected to a woman breast-feeding her own child in a private office?

She and Richard had survived the glowering looks and muttered remarks then. She and Clark would survive them now.

-o-o-o-

"What have you got for me?" Clark asked when Bruce opened the door. The billionaire carefully closed the door behind him. Clark sat back and watched as Bruce lowered the blinds then attached several small devices to the glass of the windows and door. He did the same for the windows on the outside wall.

"That good, huh?" Clark asked.

"Considering everything, I think discretion is the better part of valor," Bruce explained. He opened his briefcase and pulled out several files which he dropped on the cluttered desk. "Your hunch about Mardon may have been correct. He's been living in Latislan, showed up there about three months before the weather started going wonky."

Clark opened the top file and skimmed through it. "He's not working for the Latislan government?"

"I was a little surprised by that too," Bruce admitted.

Clark read the file more closely, although still at super-human speed. Mark Mardon was on the payroll of a company called Cyclone Recovery which did clean up work after environmental 'incidents' such as hurricanes, tornadoes, and floods. Clark knew they were already on the scene in Latislan, cleaning up government facilities damaged due to the dam breaks. He also knew from his own research that Cyclone had a reputation for getting to the scene almost before the winds had died down. In some cases, Cyclone was on the scene before government services even arrived.

Clark shook his head. "This is getting crazier by the minute. Mark Mardon, escaped convict, is getting paid by the company contracted to do the clean up in Latislan?"

"Cyclone Recovery is already in the area," Bruce reminded him. "And the area is far more politically unstable than it has been in years. But who owns Cyclone Recovery?"

Clark went back to the file. Cyclone's parent company was Treadstone Investments, founded by Timothy Schenko. Schenko had been reputed to be one of the Soviet's top researchers in weather manipulation until he defected to the U.S. in the 70's and dropped out of sight for ten years. Another sheet, heavily blacked out, described a CIA project called Operation Lightning Strike whose purpose was to find ways of controlling weather for strategic purposes. Schenko's name was mentioned as one of the researchers. The operation was shut down in the 80's, apparently for political reasons. Another sheet detailed Schenko's personal life. Clark skipped over that for the time being.

"So Schenko gets let go by the CIA and starts his own company," Clark said. "Did pretty well by the looks of it. But it still doesn't answer why they took on Mardon."

"No, it doesn't," Bruce admitted. "But want to hear a theory?"

Clark shrugged. "Sure."

"The CIA would have forbidden Schenko from continuing his research. But I don't think he stopped. My people are doing more digging but there was a spate of bad, really bad, typhoons in the Nineties. Remember?"

"I was in two of them," Clark said.

Bruce nodded. "My people tell me that those storms didn't evolve along normal patterns and there was speculation even then that they'd been 'helped' along."

"Strategic weather control."

"The conspiracy theorists blame the CIA. My bet is on Schenko. My gut also tells me that Mardon sold his brother's research to Schenko. Schenko may have even made the first move in order to neutralize his strongest rival. I'm also betting that Schenko and Mardon have been using the area around the Latislan and Podansk as a testing ground to perfect their weather control techniques."

"And then Superman comes back," Clark mused. "What better way to keep him occupied than with a couple of busted dams? But why push them into a war that neither can win? That part makes no sense."

"Who's in the best position to step in if it spirals out of control?"

"I thought the Russians had sworn off their adventurism," Clark said.

"And you're more naïve than I thought if you believe that," Bruce said. "We both know there's untold wealth in natural resources in those mountains. And who's going to object if the Russians step in to put a stop to a little war between two of their nuclear armed former satellites?"

"But why would Schenko want to help the Russians?"

"Why did Luthor try to destroy the world?" Bruce asked in return.

"Luthor was out of his mind."

"And who's to say Schenko and Mardon aren't?"

"So, how do I fix it?" Clark asked. "Navance and Kasparov aren't big Superman fans right now."

"Hopefully by tomorrow we can announce we have proof the whole thing was a vicious hoax," Bruce said. "But I do have to ask this. Has Lois pissed off anybody recently?"

"The people Lois pisses off wouldn't settle for a smear campaign. They're more the long walk off a short pier type. In fact, I was a little surprised when I came back and found she was still alive."

Clark was expecting Bruce to at least chuckle. Instead the billionaire sighed and pulled a file from the bottom of the pile and dropped in front of Clark.

"I don't know if he ever told her," Bruce said.

Curious, Clark flipped open the file. Clipped to the papers inside was a photo of Richard White. Clark read through the documents once then shut the file with a snap.

"It doesn't say what his last assignment was or why the NIA let him go," Clark said quietly, trying not to let his surprise show. "They don't normally let their field agents just walk away."

Bruce sighed again and Clark had the feeling Bruce knew much more than what was in the file.

"I don't have all the details, and what I do have is a little vague," Bruce said after a long moment. "But White was supposed to be keeping an eye on the daughter of a foreign dignitary who was allegedly involved in some very unsavory stuff. The daughter was making noises about coming to the U.S. and there were hopes she'd bring evidence against her dad with her. Didn't happen. She ended up dead along with Dad and there were rumors that it was ordered from way up in the NIA. In fact, there was a major housecleaning there just after White walked out on them. That was about six months before you took off."

"What was the daughter's name?"

"Margosha Yerikovna Kasparova, President Valerik Illyavitch Kasparov's niece."

"Oh crud," Clark murmured. _Richard had been involved in that?_ "Does Perry know?"

"You'll have to ask him."

"I thought Richard was one of the good guys," Clark said mostly to himself. He had no idea how, or even if, he was going to tell Lois that her late fiancé had been a government agent.

"Nothing I've found suggests he wasn't one of the good guys," Bruce said. "He was trying to bring down SHADO, remember? And he kept Lois and Jason safe while you were gone. That counts for something."

-o-o-o-

Lois looked longingly at the closed office door where Bruce and Clark were able to hide out from the unfolding disaster that seemed to be surrounding her.

On the nearest monitor, WGBS was running a promo for their syndicated _Top Copy_ celebrity prime time news program. On the screen was a clip from the now infamous 'key video' above the Top Copy banner. The closed captioning ran across the bottom of the screen, 'Tonight on Top Copy: It seems Lois Lane isn't the only woman Superman has been seeing...'

Onscreen, the video was replaced by a picture of a pair of identical pneumatic blonde twins wearing Superman t-shirts. They were flashing bright smiles at the camera. 'Meet the Texas Twins who claim Superman's cape has hung on their bed knob a time or two!' scrolled across the screen.

Lois glowered, trying to ignore the snide comments coming from nearby desks.

"So, Lois," Ralph said giving her a smarmy grim. "Looks like Kent just isn't enough for you. So what's it like, having Superman…"

"One more word from you, Ralph, and I won't be responsible for my actions," Lois warned sweetly.

"It was an innocent question," Ralph protested.

"Ralph, you and innocent is kinda like child porn," Lois said. "The words don't belong together and when they are, it's illegal, immoral, and otherwise sickening."

"Hey!" Ralph yelped as Lois backed her chair onto his foot.

"Lois, are you okay?" Clark asked, walking up to her desk. Ralph beat a hasty retreat.

"Well, considering I'm one notch below Cruella DeVille on the popularity scale," Lois said, trying to keep the anger out of her voice. "And I'm being publically raked over the coals for something I didn't even do, great."

Clark just gave her one of his patented patient looks.

She sighed, sagging back into her chair. "Every where I turn it's cold stares and colder shoulders. It's like everybody's blaming me for bringing down their hero. Nobody's even considering the idea that maybe it's all a lie."

"We'll get through this," Clark said softly. He leaned over and kissed her hair.

"I know we will," Lois responded. "I just can't believe how stupid the whole thing is. I just want to find somebody to punch out, or scream at, or just go home and pull the blankets over my head until it all blows over."

Clark chuckled. "You know, technically we're still on vacation. How about you take off, do something with Jason and I'll meet you at home in a couple hours?"

"Sounds like a plan," Lois said. "Nobody's taking my calls today anyway." It was just another miserable part of a miserable day. She'd tried calling her regular sources to see if they had anything for her but the only ones who had bothered to talk to her had only wanted to know about her relationship with Superman. It was galling. Worse, it was humiliating. Lois Lane didn't do humiliating.

"Let Perry know I'm taking off, okay?" she told her husband as she turned off her computer and grabbed her purse. She gave him a quick kiss and started away from her desk.

"Going to meet the big guy?" Ralph called out.

Lois stopped and glared at him but Clark spoke up, "Um, Ralph, don't make me regret saving you from that bomb any more than I already do." Clark shifted as though uncomfortable with speaking out. "Besides," he continued, "that's my wife you're talking about and if _I'm_ not worried about her and Superman… Well, let's just say that nobody else is entitled to an opinion."

It was so rarely that Clark actually spoke up in the newsroom, it was like the world had stopped in utter shock. Lois was willing to swear that a pin hitting the floor would have been heard in the ensuing silence.

Clark leaned close to her. "Wait a minute and I'll get my stuff," he murmured. "How does a trip to the zoo grab you?"

"You don't think we'll be mobbed by sleaze hounds?" Lois whispered back.

"Not in Seattle," he responded.

She grinned. "I'll meet you down at the daycare center."

-o-o-o-

Perry White looked out of his office window into the bullpen. This was his domain, his people, and he wasn't pleased that someone had seen fit to publically humiliate one of his best for simply showing affection for Metropolis's resident alien, assuming that was even the case.

Maybe Lois and Superman had shown bad judgment for doing _whatever_ in such a public venue, but that didn't mean the _Dirt Diggers_ of the world had the right to invade the privacy of individuals who had never been charged with a crime, never chosen to be in the public eye. Superman had never made any claims of wanting to be a celebrity. In fact he avoided the limelight as much as he could, considering how visible his uniform was and how public his activities were.

He watched Lois retreat from the newsroom, driven out by the thoughtless cruelty of jealous co-workers. He was going to have to warn Ralph _again_ that harassing Lois, or Clark for that matter, was a good way to get hurt.

Perry hoped the issue would die down soon. The bullpen had enough drama on the average day. He didn't need his best people adding to it.

Journalists were supposed to report the news, not be it.

Clark waved to him, making a sign that he was leaving with Lois. Perry nodded, giving his permission. Clark had already turned in a piece on the ongoing troubles in Eastern Europe and how Superman's offer of assistance was being refused. With any luck, Lois would be back in her groove once the rags started leaving her alone.

Perry hoped Bruce Wayne would be able to discover what was really behind the smear campaign against Lois and Superman, but he had his doubts. What would a playboy, even one as bright and connected as Wayne seemed to be, know about investigative work?

He opened the door to his office. "Olsen, Harper! My office, now!"

Perry was heartened to see Jimmy and Polly hurrying towards him. He shut the door behind him.

"I have an assignment for the two of you…"

**Sex, Lies & Videotape** - Story by Dan Wilcox; Teleplay by Andrew Dettmann & Daniel Truly


	6. Crimes and Circumstances

However wicked men may be, they do not dare condemn virtue openly. Thus, when they want to attack virtue, they pretend it is false or charge it with crimes.  
**Francois De La Rochefoucauld  
**_French Writer (1630-1680)_

The skies really were as blue as the song said, Lois mused as they crossed the parking lot to the main entrance to the Woodland Park Zoo in Seattle. To the right of the entrance gate was a neatly manicured rose garden. Lois wondered a moment about zoos and rose gardens. The Metropolis Zoo had a large rose garden as well. Maybe it was related to all the manure the zoo produced, or maybe some time in the past someone decided that a 'zoological garden' required a garden.

"I thought it might be a good idea to get the heck out of Dodge for a while," Clark said as he paid cash for their entrance. Lois had noticed some time before that Clark almost always paid in cash when they were outside of Metropolis.

"It was getting a little tenser than normal in the newsroom," Clark continued. He unfolded a map and asked Jason where he wanted to go first. Jason just shook his head, eyes downcast.

"Jason, you've been awfully quiet," Lois observed, crouching down to be on his eye level. The girls in the Planet daycare center hadn't mentioned any problems with him when she and Clark came to pick him up.

"Kiddo, what's wrong?" Clark asked, keeping his voice low.

"Some of the grownups were saying bad things about Mommy and Superman," Jason whispered.

"Jason, you know those things aren't true," Lois said gently.

Jason nodded, wiping his nose on his sleeve. "I know that, but I can't tell anybody I know that."

"I know it's hard, but just ignore them" Clark said quietly. "They don't know what's really going on and as soon as we figure out who started it, it'll all be okay."

"Promise?"

Clark nodded. "The truth is rarely as scary as what people imagine is going on."

Jason wiped his nose again.

"So, which way do we go first, right or left?" Clark asked.

"Do they have penguins?"

-o-o-o-

Ralph Gunderson glowered at Lois Lane's empty desk in the Daily Planet bullpen. Princess Lois got the best assignments, hung out with aliens and billionaires. She was engaged to the boss's nephew for _five years_ for crissakes, and today she'd just flounced out like she hadn't a care in the world – like she enjoyed the notoriety of being Superman's main squeeze even though she was now a married woman.

"It isn't fair," Ralph groused to himself. He'd been in the business far longer than Lois Lane, and he was at least as good a reporter as she was, yet _she_ was the star. _She_ was the one who got the first interview with Superman. _She_ was the one who could do no wrong in Perry White's eyes.

Kent's desk was also empty but Ralph knew the other man was working out of the spare office. How did he rate a private office _and_ a cute little assistant from International? The rest of them were working on important stories, but somehow Kent was the one with the office with a locking door. Ralph had no doubts that Princess Lois had something to do with _that_, too.

And Kent… Ralph paused as he considered the man. He understood why Kent might be attracted to Lois – the meek mousy guys usually went for dominatrix type. But he couldn't understand what Lane saw in Kent. The man was so mild-mannered he was nearly comatose – unless that was exactly what Princess Lois wanted, a man so blind and meek that he wouldn't mind that she was doing the horizontal mamba with half the football team.

That had to be it, Ralph decided. Kent was so cowed that he didn't care that his wife was being done by Superman. Maybe Kent even got off on the idea, or maybe Superman was doing both of them.

Ralph spotted Perry crossing the bullpen floor, coming his way. His heart sank. He knew what the editor wanted.

"Have you got confirmation on that story about the mayor's aide?" Perry demanded.

"Perry, you know my source on this is good…"

"I know no such thing," Perry stated, brindled eyebrows coming together. "And we've had this discussion before. No confirmation, no story. Get me something else."

Perry walked away, heading for his next victim.

Ralph knew he had a great story but Perry just didn't see it. He was certain that Princess Lois didn't need extra confirmation on _her_ stories.

With a grumble Ralph grabbed his jacket and headed for the elevators and the parking garage. If the boss wanted a second source, Ralph was going to have to find one.

A woman was waiting at the elevators. He didn't recognize her but she was wearing a large hat and dark sunglasses that obscured her features. Her beige suit looked tailored and very expensive.

"Um, I was looking for Lois Lane," she said. Her voice was low and sexy and sent a thrill down Ralph's spine.

"She's not here," Ralph said. "But I'm a reporter too. Maybe I can help you." He sidled closer to her and she didn't back away.

"I really wanted to talk to Ms. Lane about Superman," the woman said. "But I guess you'll do. Tell me, do you know her well?"

"I know her as well as anybody does," Ralph assured the woman. The elevator doors opened and she followed him inside. She asked simple questions and he answered as best he could. No, he didn't know where Lois was nor did he know where Kent had gotten to. He didn't tell her that Kent and Lane had probably left the building together.

"How about we stop somewhere for drinks?" Ralph offered as the elevator doors opened onto the hallway that led to the parking garage.

"Maybe," the woman purred. Her hips swung lazily as she walked with him through the garage.

"That's funny," he muttered to himself. "Her highness's car is still here."

"That's Lois Lane's car?" the woman asked, pointing out the gun-metal gray Audi parked only a few stalls away from the door.

"Uh, yeah," Ralph said.

"So, she's still in the building?"

"Nah, it just means she'll be back in a little bit," Ralph said.

"You're sure?"

"Yeah," Ralph assured her. He moved ahead of her, toward his own car several aisles further down.

The woman called out in alarm, "Lois! What are you doing?"

Ralph began to turn when he heard a crack. He felt a burning pressure in his chest and then the concrete floor came up and hit him.

-o-o-o-

Inspector William Henderson had a headache, a Lois-Lane-size-pounding in his temples. But then, Lois Lane frequently gave him headaches. Lane was good at her job, but people like her frequently caught the attention of nut jobs. And Lois Lane caught more than her fair share of the attention of two-legged squirrels. Keeping an eye on her was a full time job for Superman, Henderson mused.

Henderson looked up as his office door opened and Emily Douglass walked in. The detective looked as bad as he felt.

"Just got a call from Met General," Douglass announced. "Gunderson's gonna be fine."

"But…" Henderson prompted. He knew from her stance that it wasn't all good news.

"But it's going to be a while before we can talk to him," Douglass said. "They have him heavily sedated. Plus, Dunning and his bunch have already gotten hold of the alleged eyewitness to the assault. They're positively IDing Lois Lane as the shooter," Douglass said.

Henderson sighed. He was acquainted with Barry Dunning, the host of 'In Your Face' – a perversely popular talk show on WGBS. Henderson knew the depths the man would go to in his conscienceless quest to sate the public's desire for sleazy exposés featuring the influential and famous. So far the MPD hadn't been able to get any criminal charges to stick against him, but it wasn't for lack of trying. One of these days some angry recipient of Dunning's unwanted attention was going to kill him. Henderson just hoped _he_ didn't get assigned to the case when it happened. He was afraid of the repercussions if he handed the killer a medal before hauling him in.

"We're guessing it's the same person who made the first call to 9-1-1," Douglass continued.

"What about the surveillance tapes from the Daily Planet?" Henderson asked.

"They're not tapes…"

Henderson glared at her.

"We just got them and we're going over them now," Douglass said. "But lobby security confirms that Lane and Kent and the boy left the building together by the front door at a little after one. He remembers because Kent asked if there'd been any trouble and they were all a little tense. And Kent's normally pretty mellow."

"She left with Kent?" This was the first he'd heard that Lane had left the Planet building with her husband and son.

"Yeah," Douglass said. "We figure she came back and um…"

"Emmy, Lane didn't do it," Henderson stated flatly.

"And how do you know that, sir?"

"The same way I know _you_ didn't shoot him," Henderson said. "He's still alive." Henderson leaned back in his chair, his hands steepled in front of his face. "You said Dunning claims he has a witness?"

"Yeah."

"See if you can't get Judge Page to grant us a warrant to search Dunning's home and office."

"On what grounds? And what about his First Amendment Rights?" Douglass asked.

"First Amendment only protects you if you're not lying," Henderson said. "Dunning says he has a witness to an assault with a deadly weapon. A witness about whom we, the police, know nothing. So, either he's lying, or his source is. In either case, he's interfering in an active police investigation and very probably is an accessory to the crime."

"It won't stick," Douglass warned.

"We can try," Henderson said. "Has anyone tried to find Lane?"

Douglass shrugged. "Like I said, she left the Daily Planet a little after one. Her car's still in the garage and we haven't found any cabs that might have picked her up."

Henderson started flipping through his phone file. "Have you tried calling her?"

"Her phone is not in service."

"And that doesn't strike you as a little odd?" Henderson asked. He picked up his own phone and keyed in a number from the list in front of him. After three rings the other end picked up. "Kent, where are you?"

-o-o-o-

Jason had cheered up while they walked through the zoo's open-air exhibits. He chattered away excitedly over what for them was a very late lunch from a little kiosk near the wallaby exhibit. He was also hopping around like one of the wallabies, waving around his new kangaroo stuffed toy.

"This was a good idea," Lois commented around her veggie sandwich.

"I thought you might like it," Clark said. "You _are_ supposed to still be on vacation after all."

Lois's expression went still and flat, as it occasionally did when she was faced with something distasteful. This time it was his observation. She didn't like 'I told you so's, even when they weren't actually stated.

"You think I should have stayed at your mom's for a couple more days?" she asked.

"No," Clark said truthfully. "I'm surprised you didn't take the first available flight out from Wichita."

Some of the tenseness left her mouth. "I wanted to, but your mom talked me into waiting until morning. Good night's sleep, all that stuff. But maybe you're right. Maybe if I had stayed that extra day, none of this crap would have happened."

"We don't know that. It might have happened anyway. We just weren't as careful as we need to be. It's not just you and me we have to worry about."

Lois snorted. "There's Jason, and his parents in a romantic triangle with only two people."

"It'll blow over," Clark assured her.

"And if it doesn't?"

"It will…" Clark's cell phone chirped and he patted his pockets to find it. Bill H. was the name that came up on the tiny screen.

"Kent, where are you?" Bill Henderson demanded before Clark could say anything.

"Um, hi to you too, Inspector," Clark managed to get out. "Why do you want to know?"

"Is Lois with you?"

"Yes."

"She's been with you all afternoon?" Henderson quizzed.

"Uh, yes, except for about five minutes in a restroom," Clark responded. "Why?"

"Where are you?"

"We're at the Woodland Park Zoo," Clark answered cautiously. There was something extremely odd in Henderson's questions – almost like he suspected them of something.

"And where is that?"

"Seattle."

"Seattle? As in Washington State?"

Clark confirmed it was.

"Can you prove you've been there all afternoon?"

"We have entrance tickets with date and time stamps and Lois's credit card receipts," Clark answered. Despite his aversion to leaving hard to explain paper trails, Lois had bought snacks and souvenirs on her credit card. "Is that good enough?"

"I'm assuming the time on the entrance ticket is only a few minutes after the three of you were seen leaving the Daily Planet?" Henderson said.

"Closer to half an hour but, um, yes."

"Would Superman be willing to sign a statement saying he flew the three of you to Seattle?"

"Bill, what's going on?" Clark demanded worriedly. "What's happened?"

"Ralph Gunderson was shot in the Daily Planet parking garage," Henderson said. Clark nearly dropped his phone in surprise. "It wasn't a serious wound," Henderson went on, "but one of the 9-1-1 calls claimed that Lois did it, and Dunning has it spread all over the airwaves."

Lois scooted closer so she could hear the conversation. "When did it happen?"

"About ninety minutes ago," Henderson said.

"We were in the Tropical Rain Forest exhibit," Lois said. "We had to be on a security camera."

"I'll check into that," Henderson promised.

"Do you want us to come back now or spend the night here?" Clark asked.

"Come back now," Henderson instructed. "But be prepared to spend the night in a hotel. I'm told Dunning has your house staked out."

Clark folded up his phone and put it back in his pocket. "Ralph getting shot isn't a coincidence."

"I know he's an obnoxious sleaze ball, but who'd want him dead?"

"A better question is who would want to frame _you_ for it?"

-o-o-o-

Jimmy Olsen was hard at work and ignoring the comments around him. He wasn't reporting on the attack on Ralph Gunderson. That had fallen to Tom Weaver. But Jimmy knew of the rumors that Lois had been involved in Ralph's attack. Jimmy also knew he had seen Lois leave the bullpen only a few minutes before Clark had and Clark would never let Lois do anything as foolish as shooting Ralph – no matter how badly Ralph might deserve it.

Besides, Lois was smart enough not to commit a crime in front of security cameras. Hell, if Lois wanted Ralph dead he'd be dead, the body would never be found, and she would have an airtight alibi for the time of his disappearance.

Jimmy frowned as he watched and listened to the recording of Superman and Lois. He had the volume turned up on his headphones and the audio was a squiggly waveform on his monitor. There… Superman's head came up as though he heard something and less than a second later he was gone and the video stopped. The recording didn't show Lois's reaction to Superman's sudden departure.

Not that Lois's reaction mattered for what Jimmy was doing. He was concentrating on inconsistencies in the background noises – water, shouting voices in the distance. The microphone in the recorder had been overwhelmed by noise. Then the background noise disappeared and one word could be heard clearly – 'Superman'. The voice sounded female. But what had caught Jimmy's attention was that the background noise in that section didn't simply drop as the automatic gain on the tiny camera microphone compensated for the change in volume. The background noise _disappeared_.

He copied and saved the audio snippet into a separate file. He doubted anyone would be able to identify the woman's voice, but there was always the chance that someone would be able to do a voice print match. _Maybe_.

Jimmy hurried to Perry White's office. The editor looked up as Jimmy closed the door behind himself.

"I've got something," Jimmy announced. "That video of Lois and Superman… it was edited."

"You mean the thing's a fake?" Perry demanded.

"I wouldn't go that far," Jimmy admitted, "but the audio was edited to make it look like Superman took off because somebody saw them together and called his name."

"And that's not what happened?"

"Nope. Of course, I can't prove what _did_ happen."

"Do you think Dunning knows the video was altered?" Perry asked.

"I don't see how he or his people could have missed it," Jimmy said. "I mean, I caught it as soon as I had a good copy of the video. It just took a while to get a high resolution copy of the untrimmed original."

There was a familiar predatory gleam in Perry's eyes. The older man was an investigative reporter long before he became an editor and he knew the smell of a good story. "Make sure Polly knows about this when she gets back," Perry ordered.

-o-o-o-

Henderson had been right about the media circus on their front lawn. What he hadn't mentioned was that Wayne Security was also there in the form of several very large and very obvious men and women in dark windbreakers, slacks and sunglasses. They were also very obviously armed. Lois suspected that was the only thing keeping the vultures with the video cameras off the lawn and on the sidewalk.

Unfortunately Lois, Clark, and Jason, were going to have to run the gauntlet to get past the media vultures to the safety of the house. Clark paid the cabbie and hefted Jason onto his hip as Lois climbed out of the cab they'd taken from Metro City Airport. Wayne Entertainment kept a jet parked there and Clark figured it made for a good cover – Wayne's people wouldn't talk to anyone without their boss's express permission and leaving from the airport implied they had arrived there by plane.

"Lois Lane!" Barry Dunning yelled. Lois tried to catch up with Clark and Jason, but Dunning was fast for a man of his size and his cameraman wasn't much slower.

"Ms. Lane, I'm Barry Dunning."

"I know who you are," Lois stated, trying to move past him.

"Then you're familiar with my show, 'In Your Face with Barry Dunning!'" he gushed.

Clark had stopped to listen and two of the security men moved closer.

"Riveting journalism, Mr. Dunning," Lois stated. She was having a hard time keeping the derision out of her voice. "Particularly your show on 'Cross-Dressing Cousins and the Has-Been Child Stars Who Love Them.'"

Dunning didn't seem to realize she was making fun of him. "Hey, thanks. That means a lot coming from you." He moved closer, shoving his microphone in her face. "Ms. Lane, I want to give you the chance to tell your side of the story…"

"And what makes you think there's a story?" Lois spat. She tried to move away from him but he moved in front of her again.

"What about the video, Lane?" he asked.

She ignored him.

"Are you or are you not having an affair with Superman?" Dunning demanded.

"No comment," Lois stated.

"Well, what do you say to those who are calling you 'Superman's Super Strumpet?'"

"That's quite enough, Dunning," Clark warned.

Dunning ignored him, focusing on Lois. "Care to respond?"

"One, read about it in the _Planet_ and two… get off my lawn before I call the police," Lois warned.

"What about Ralph Gunderson?" Dunning asked. "Witnesses place you at the scene. What do you say to that?"

"Your alleged witnesses are lying," Lois stated. Clark moved closer to her and Jason was glowering at Dunning.

"How can you live with yourself? Subjecting an innocent child to all this?" Dunning demanded. As he spoke he reached out a hand for Jason.

The next moments seemed to be in slow motion – Dunning's hand grabbed her son's sleeve and Jason began to scream. One of the security men pulled Dunning away while two others grabbed the cameraman and the camera. Another one went to Dunning's camera van. The other TV reporters backed off, but their cameras were still running – Dunning was now the news.

"Oh, c'mon, Lane. I'm only after the _truth_!" Dunning whined.

"Dunning, you wouldn't know the truth if it came up and bit you," a woman's voice called out. Lois looked over to see that a black Toyota had just stopped and disgorged two passengers – a short, stocky, dark haired woman in a tailored suit and Bruce Wayne.

The woman motioned for Lois to back off as she handed Dunning an envelope. Then she stepped in front of the cameras. "I'm Roberta Gonzales and I am representing Ms. Lane and her family. And _that_, Mister Dunning, is an injunction. You and your staff are ordered to remain at least five hundred feet away from Ms. Lane, Mister Kent, and their child. You are also prohibited from entering the Daily Planet Building."

"You can't do this," Dunning sputtered. "I have rights. Remember that little thing called the First Amendment?"

"Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof or abridging the freedom of speech or of the press or…" Gonzales began.

"What about the part that says I've got the right to do whatever I want because I'm a reporter?" Dunning demanded.

"We can all be thankful that _that_ amendment hasn't been written yet, Mr. Dunning," Wayne stated sardonically.

"Besides," someone in the group of reporters added loudly, "haven't you said you're just an entertainer so you don't have to abide by the rules?"

Dunning sputtered incoherently.

Gonzales nodded to the other reporters. "Mister Wayne has a prepared statement."

Clark put a protective arm around Lois and guided her away from the cameras. They stopped at the front door to their house to listen as Wayne began reading his statement.

"Ladies and gentlemen, as the publisher of the Daily Planet, I want to assure everyone that the Daily Planet whole heartedly stands behind Ms. Lane and her family and we are investigating the source of these vicious rumors and false statements involving Ms. Lane and the Man of Steel. The Daily Planet and her employees are also giving their full cooperation to the Metropolis Police Department as they investigate the attack on journalist Ralph Gunderson. Rest assured the person or persons responsible for this attack will be brought to justice."

"Mister Wayne," one of the reporters, Nola Potts of WNNC, called. "What about the 9-1-1 call that stated that Lane was the assailant?"

"I'm not at liberty to discuss the MPD's investigation into the matter," Wayne responded smoothly. "However, as you can see, Ms. Lane has not been arrested and I have every faith that she will be fully exonerated and the actual perpetrator of this crime will be brought to justice as quickly as humanly possible. Thank you." With that he turned and headed toward the house, Gonzales at his heels.

The other reporters called after him but the billionaire ignored them. He looked relieved when Clark closed the front door behind them.

Lois turned to Gonzales. "I didn't know you were my attorney. Do I need one?"

"Mister White asked me to represent you," Gonzales said. "I've been assured that you are not a suspect in the attack on Gunderson, but I should warn you that until the real attacker is apprehended, you'll still be a media target. The allegations about you and Superman aren't making it any easier."

"But there's nothing to them," Lois protested. "The people who claim they saw me in a hotel with him are just plain lying."

"Unfortunately, proving a negative is very difficult," Gonzales said. "And the more you deny it, the more people are going to think you're guilty. Of course, if Superman were to make a public statement…"

"Assuming he did make a statement, the only people who will accept it are the ones who already believe he and Lois are innocent," Clark said. He sighed. "Right now there are a lot of people who are convinced he's guilty. Dunning is just one of them."

"Speaking of Dunning, do you want to press charges against him for grabbing Jason?" Wayne asked.

"Do you think we can make it stick?" Lois asked.

"With the way the kid screamed? Yeah," Gonzales answered.

Clark turned to Jason who was happily ignoring the adults as he played one of his video games on the big screen TV. "Jason, why did you scream when Mister Dunning grabbed for you?"

Jason gave him a look of wide-eyed innocence. "That's what Mommy and Daddy always told me to do if somebody grabbed me and I didn't know them."

"Smart kid," Wayne said with a chuckle. "By the way, Inspector Henderson wants to talk to you."

"I thought I wasn't a suspect," Lois said.

"You're not," Wayne assured her. "But it's possible you know something."

-o-o-o-

"Can you identify her?" Henderson asked Lois. She and her son had arrived at his office only minutes before and she wasn't in a great mood. Henderson didn't blame her, considering they'd had to ford their way through the media circus outside police headquarters to get into the building. News of the assault charges against Dunning were already all over the airwaves. Dunning was screaming bloody murder about the police being in collusion with the Daily Planet to shut him down.

Clark wasn't with Lois. She gave the excuse that her husband was stressed and sick from the ordeal in front of their house when they got home. Henderson knew the real reason – Superman was handling a multicar pileup on the Ordway. It was raining for the first time in several weeks and downpour made the streets slicker than usual. There would be a lot of accidents tonight.

Henderson watched as Lois studied the enlargement of the frame capture on his monitor. Wayne Security had placed cameras all through the Daily Planet's parking garage when Bruce Wayne purchased the paper and the building.

Surprisingly there were security cameras covering the doors to the garage as well and those were placed at eye-level. It was a clever idea and Gunderson's assailant was caught actually facing one of those cameras. She was a well dressed woman wearing a wide hat and sunglasses and carrying a large purse.

"She's familiar," Lois said. "But I can't place her."

"Could she be someone you've interviewed?" Detective Douglass asked.

"Could be," Lois admitted. "But I talk to a lot of people."

"Anyone hate you badly enough to frame you for shooting Gunderson?" Douglass asked. Henderson simply sat back and watched them. Douglass was good but she didn't know Lois Lane.

"I'm an investigative reporter," Lois said. "Before that I was on the city beat. Half the pols in town would like to see me disappear, but I can't think of one of them who would actually try anything like this. Anyone who knows me would know I wouldn't kill somebody on my home turf and I certainly wouldn't do it in front of security cameras. Ralph's a sleaze, but even _he_ doesn't deserve to get shot."

The office door opened.

"Sorry about that," Clark apologized as he walked in. Henderson simply waved him over. Douglass, however, wasn't on the short list of people who knew about Clark's other job. The policewoman grimaced as Clark shut the door and stepped closer to the desk.

Henderson pointed to the picture on the monitor. "Know her?"

Clark went very still. _Bingo_.

"Who is she?" Douglass asked.

"Lana Lang," Clark answered.

* * *

**Sex, Lies & Videotape** - Story by Dan Wilcox; Teleplay by Andrew Dettmann & Daniel Truly


	7. Secrets from the Past

A secret may be sometimes best kept by keeping the secret of its being a secret.**  
Sir Henry Taylor  
**_English Dramatist (__1800__-__1886__)_

We should not judge a man's virtue by his great abilities, but by the use he makes of them.**  
Francois De La Rochefoucauld  
**_French Writer (1630-1680)_

"I can't believe it," Clark kept repeating. "I knew Lana had issues, but I can't believe she'd try to kill Ralph and try to blame it on you."

"We both saw the security video," Lois reminded him. "The 9-1-1 call was made by a pay-as-you-go phone but the call exactly matches the location and time on the security video."

Clark flopped back in the hotel bed. As Henderson had suggested, they were spending the night in one of the high-rise hotels in Midtown to avoid the media frenzy created when news got out of Dunning's arrest for accosting Jason. It was the lead local news story on every station in Metropolis, followed by the attack on Ralph. The two stories even drove Superman's alleged indiscretions off the air.

Clark knew it was only a small respite. Chances were good that by tomorrow the reporters who were after Dunning's blood today would be after Superman's again tomorrow – especially when they found out that Superman had arranged Lois's out-of-town trip with her family, and a perfect alibi, while Ralph was being attacked.

Lois propped herself on her elbow to face him. "Penny for your thoughts?"

"I don't know if they're worth that much."

She sighed. "Back in Smallville, you told Lana that she had forgiven you for being different. What did you mean?"

Clark stared at the ceiling, listening to Jason's soft even breathing as he slept on the cot by the large windows.

"Clark?" Lois prompted.

"When I was in high school, my powers started to come in," Clark began, keeping his voice low. "I mean, I was stronger and faster than nearly everyone else since I was even younger than Jason, but the other stuff started happening. I could hear conversations halfway around town. I could see things with my naked eyes that no one else could see. It was more than just the energy aura. I knew from before kindergarten that other people didn't see that, but I started seeing through walls and clothes, seeing the microbes they talked about in biology without a microscope. I could see the footprints on the Moon without a telescope."

"Did _she_ know about that?"

"No. I didn't even tell my parents when it first started happening," Clark said. "But there were other things I couldn't hide quite as easily. Like a facility for languages. I can listen to a language being spoken and within a sentence or two I can identify it, even speak it a little. Give me a day and I have it down like a native, including reading and writing if I have access to the written language."

"Nice talent," Lois commented.

"Came in really handy when I went travelling," Clark admitted. "But that was one of the things Lana did find out. She caught me having a conversation with some migrant workers, in Spanish. Only I'd never taken Spanish in school, didn't know anyone who spoke it. Then the high school French teacher, Mrs. Cavanaugh, commented within Lana's hearing on how quickly I had mastered the language, like maybe I'd known it as a child and was just relearning it."

"Why do I have the feeling Miss Lang thought that was a little weird?"

"She did. And she was very annoyed when I got an A in French and she got a B and she'd actually spent some summers in Paris. She got very annoyed when I was elected president of the French Club the year we went to Paris for a week over spring break."

"So, how did you end up going out with her?" Lois asked.

Clark shrugged. "Like I told you, it suited her to be seen with me, until she realized I had plans that didn't include her."

"So she forgave you for being weird because you were the star quarterback and wide receiver?"

"More or less," Clark admitted. "It was a long time ago."

"Want to tell me about it?" Lois asked.

Clark sighed. "You remember what high school was like. The cliques, the pseudo-intellectualism, the constant one-ups manship. The daily drama that was only important for the moment."

"Sounds like the bullpen," Lois commented.

"It was a lot like the bullpen," Clark agreed. He hadn't thought about it in a long time, but Lois was right – the newsroom with its high energy, high profile personalities was very much like high school had been. But this time he wasn't just dating the head cheerleader, he was married to her. If only Dad could see him now…

Clark knew that Jonathan Kent hadn't always been a cautious man – he'd heard the stories of Jonathan and Martha Kent working for civil rights in Wichita and Kansas City, but the man Clark knew as his dad was a very cautious man. He had taken the discovery of a toddler in a space ship in stride. He had accepted Clark's strange gifts with an equanimity few humans could have managed under the circumstances. But his caution had demanded that Clark not try out for any high school sports for fear of discovery of his strange gifts.

Clark _had_ managed to talk his father into letting him be involved with the football team as team manager. Jonathan hadn't been pleased at how much time it was going to take from Clark's chores around the farm, but there wasn't much he could object to when Clark was able to complete his chores in a fraction of the time of a normal teen.

The first week of Clark's senior year in high school was clear and dry. The harvests had been good so far. In fact, Jonathan and Martha had been able to set aside some money for Clark's education – college was coming up fast and there was no question that Clark would be going to college, even if he had to spend the first two years at Smallville Community College to help manage costs.

All this and more was running through Clark's mind as he watched the last straggling football players leave the field to head for the showers while the cheerleaders in their sweaters and short pleated skirts practiced one last stunt. Lana, Susie, Heather, Megan, Rachel. The girls applauded themselves as they dropped their megaphones and ran after the football players – all but Rachel, who began to pick up the cheerleading equipment. Rachel Harris was one of the nicer girls in the squad and was in several of Clark's classes this semester. He'd known her since kindergarten.

"You don't have to bother with those, Rach," Clark told her, picking up the remaining equipment. "I'll take them in for you with the other equipment."

"Why, thank you, Clark."

She smiled and Clark felt his face grow warm. He pushed his glasses up his nose. "Well... ah... ah... it's sort of my job as team manager, anyway, and..."

"Listen," she interrupted. "A whole bunch of us are going over to Lana's and play some CDs. Wanna come?"

"Sure…"

"Kent won't be able to make it," Brad McAllister, the team's current star, announced. "Kent's still got a lot of work to do."

"What do you mean?" Clark began. "I've stacked all the..." He turned and realized that neatly stacked equipment that had been on the bench was all over the muddy ground and the wooden bench itself had been up-ended.

Over in the parking lot, Lana had her dad's car filled with football players and the cheerleading team. They were sniggering at him like all the other times Brad McAllister or Dave Hocker made him look like an idiot. He ruthlessly quashed the spurt of anger he felt rising. McAllister wasn't worth it.

Clark smiled faintly. "I guess I'd better clean it up."

"I'll help," Rachel offered. McAllister glared at her.

"You don't have to," Clark told her. It was a nice gesture but he could have the mess cleaned up in seconds if there were no witnesses.

"You're sure?" she asked.

"Go on," Clark insisted. "I have to get home for my chores as soon as I'm done here anyway."

He watched as the car sped off. Finally alone, he looked back at the mess McAllister had made. Clark didn't know why McAllister and Hocker picked on him except that maybe, on some deep level, they recognized Clark's 'otherness'. It was humiliating, and it was all Clark could do to keep from lashing out at them.

One of the footballs was sitting on a tee at the two and a half yard line, left there by one of the guys who had been practicing his extra point kicks. Clark stared at the ball a moment and then gave it a frustrated kick. It sailed off like a rocket through the goal posts at the far end of the field. Over a hundred yards and he knew he could keep doing it forever without breaking into a sweat.

He looked back at the mess McAllister – he had no doubt it had been McAllister – had left for him. With a sigh he shifted into super speed to clean everything up. Dad would be furious if he knew, but it was the only way to get things done and still get home at a reasonable time.

Clark was almost home when Lana's car barreled down the dirt road, slowed as if getting ready to stop then sped off, spewing dust and rocks behind it. Clark glared after them then cut across the fields toward home. He knew he wasn't supposed to cross the fields, but the harvest was already in and there was no one around to see him running far faster than any human. And sometimes it just felt good to see just how much he could do.

He spotted the car rounding the corner and he came to a stop beside the front gate to his parents' house. He leaned nonchalantly against the tree on the driveway edge and waved as the car slowed to a stop beside him. Clark smirked as the car's occupants stared at him, open mouthed.

"Clark...?" Susie began.

"How the hell did you...?" McAllister sputtered.

It was all Clark could do to keep from grinning at their astonishment. "I ran," he deadpanned.

Lana gunned the engine and the car sped off. Clark broke into a self-satisfied smile.

"Been showin' off a bit, have you, son?" his dad asked.

"I don't mean to show off, Dad. It's just that..."

"You got all these amazin' things you can do," Jonathan said, "and sometimes you think you'll go bust if you don't let other people know."

"I could score a touchdown every time I had the ball. Every time, Dad. Is it showing off for a person to do what he's capable of? Is a bird showing off when it flies?" Clark asked. His dad simply looked at him. They'd had this conversation so many times over the years and it was always the same. "I'm sorry, Dad," Clark added.

"Look, son. You've been nothin' but a blessing to your mother and me. In the beginning – when you first came – we thought they'd take you away from us if people found out about... the things you could do. But a man thinks different as he gets older, thinks... better. Wiser. Starts to see things clear. And I know now that as sure as we're gonna see the moon tonight there's a reason why you're here. Don't ask me what reason, don't ask me whose reason. But there's one thing I do know... It ain't to score touchdowns."

Clark understood his father's qualms – he knew that people feared what was different and what they couldn't control, and he knew that people might actually fear him if they knew how different he really was – but he didn't need to like it. Jonathan patted him on the back reassuringly as they both headed toward the barn. The dog came out of the barn barking and wanting to play. Clark ran ahead of his father to play with the dog a few minutes before starting his chores.

Clark had just dropped his book bag when he heard his father's heart falter. He turned to see Jonathan Kent grab his left arm, stagger toward the house and collapse into a heap.

"Dad?" Clark called.

"Jonathan?" his mother called from the house. Then she screamed her husband's name. But Jonathan Kent's heart had already stopped and refused to restart despite Clark's attempts at CPR.

The funeral was three days later. It was a quiet affair. The Kents had been in Lowell County for generations, but Jonathan Kent had never been an outgoing man, and while he had cared that he was respected, popularity had never been important to him. He'd never been one to hang out at the tavern or the Odd Fellows Hall when the chores were done.

Of Clark's schoolmates, only Rachel Harris and Pete Ross had bothered to come share their friend's grief during the funeral.

The service seemed to go on forever – Clark knew that wasn't true, but it felt that way. Finally they arrived at the cemetery and the coffin was lowered into the newly dug grave beside the rest of the departed Kents.

Pastor Linquist stood opposite Clark and his mother and read the committal words. "Forasmuch as our brother has departed out of this life, we therefore commit his body to the ground, earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust, trusting the infinite mercy of God, in Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen."

Clark repeated the 'Amen', but his heart wasn't in it. He had stopped attending church some years before – the hypocrisy had become too much – but he and Pastor Linquist had spent a lot of time just talking.

"I heard a voice from heaven saying," Linquist went on. "From henceforth, blessed are the dead who die in the Lord; even so, says the Spirit; for they rest from their labors. Let us pray… Merciful God, our heavenly Father, who made your Son Jesus Christ to be the resurrection and the life, raise us we pray, from the death of sin to the life of righteousness; that when we depart this life we may with this our brother be found acceptable to you; for the sake of your Son, Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God world without end. Amen."

Linquist nodded to the few who had come out to the cemetery then headed off, his job at the grave done.

"All those things I can do, all those powers... and I still couldn't save him," Clark said when he was alone with his mother. He was trying to keep from crying but the tears kept leaking through. His mother simply patted his hand in understanding and followed Linquist to his car.

A week later, Clark approached Coach Murphy and asked for a chance to try out for the football team. Clark had already talked to his mother about it. She wasn't happy with the idea, but she gave him her blessing to try.

The rest of the football team wasn't exactly happy when they found out Clark Kent was joining the team, but Coach Murphy wouldn't have any of their attitude.

By the end of first game of the season, the naysayers and jokers on the team were singing a different tune. The Smallville Crows hadn't beaten the Evanston Bobcats in twenty years, until that game. The winning touchdown was made by Clark Kent.

Suddenly he was popular. It was a heady feeling, going from dweeb to big man on campus. He was invited to parties and get-togethers. It was like he'd entered a different world. And suddenly Lana Lang was interested in him. Lana, who spoke five languages and spent her summers in France and Italy, wanted to go out with _him_.

"You have to dress better if we're going out," Lana began. Clark didn't see much wrong with the way he dressed. He was a farmer's son and durability meant more than fashion. Besides, he liked the feel of flannel. But he went along with Lana's wishes and bought new, more fashionable, clothes for when they went out. He knew his mom disapproved but she didn't say anything to him about his spending – it was his money, after all.

Life was good. The football team kept winning and it wasn't due to Clark and his gifts although that helped some. Smallville High came to attention of college scouts. Clark and Brad McAlister were both offered football scholarships to Kansas State. It was a heady time, especially after Smallville won the state championship for the first time in over thirty years.

It was fun going out with Lana and her friends, at least at first. Then Lana started to change, or maybe it was Clark noticing things that had been there all along. Lana didn't like the friends Clark had grown up with, she didn't like his choice in books or music – he preferred mysteries, techno-thrillers, classic literature, and obscure foreign writers, while Lana wouldn't read anything that wasn't assigned by her English teacher or involved a movie star.

Lana didn't like Clark's easy going friendliness with everyone or the time he spent at the student newspaper. And she didn't approve of his 'bleeding-heart do-gooding tendencies'. Clark never considered himself a 'liberal', but he had always found the theory of Social Darwinism morally suspect and Rand's 'enlightened self interest' was a concept that reality had proved to be unworkable – enlightened self interest demanded a long view of history and the future. Few people seemed to have that long view.

Still, Clark went out with Lana – she had interesting friends and her parents were nice people – and it was nice to have a steady girl.

But things started to get 'strange' around Easter.

"Don't you like me, Clark?" Lana asked after they'd gone to dinner and a movie. The movie had been mindless, more suited to making out to than watching. Lana had snuggled against him in the balcony, teasingly kissing the corner of his jaw. But when she tried to loosen his jeans he found himself balking.

"Lana, I…" Clark began. His father had taught him to respect women and that 'no' meant exactly that. But Jonathan hadn't covered the notion that it might be the woman who needed to learn that restraint. "I think it's a little soon for that, okay?"

"We've been going out for nearly seven months," she hissed at him. "It's not like I'm asking to have _sex_ with you."

"This just isn't a very comfortable place for that, okay," Clark told her but he knew she didn't really believe him. There had been other couples in the balcony that had been necking and petting. He didn't begrudge them that – it was their choice. But he simply didn't feel right doing it with Lana. He couldn't explain it but it felt _wrong_. And he knew he would never be able to explain it to her.

Lana gave him a hard look but took his hand as they walked out of the theater.

That night Clark heard the Father Crystal singing. He got out of bed and followed the song to its source - the storage cellar beneath the barn. He opened the heavy wooden door hidden under the straw on the floor. The singing got louder and the cellar was awash with an eerie green glow. Oddly, he wasn't afraid even though he probably should have been – it was almost as if he was dreaming.

He picked the crystal up – it was about fifteen inches long and three inches in diameter, tapered and faceted at each end. It glowed with a cold unearthly light.

_Krypton_.

The word echoed in his mind and he knew that was where the crystal had originated. More than that, he knew that was where _he_ had originated.

_Krypton_.

Even the name sounded alien. He was alien. He hadn't been born on Earth.

The crystal whispered instructions. _Go north. Take me north_.

Clark knew that was exactly what he was going to do after he graduated high school – despite the crystal's insistence of urgency Clark knew he couldn't leave before getting his diploma. But he also knew there would be no going to college on a football scholarship, no staying home on the farm. His destiny didn't include that. He didn't know where the crystal was going to lead him, but he knew he wouldn't be staying in Smallville.

"Clark?" Lois's voice intruded. "You looked like you were a million miles away."

"Not that far," Clark told her. "I'm just trying to get a handle on what Lana was after back in high school and why she told you the things she did."

"She strikes me as someone who never learned that misery is optional," Lois said. "I think she also thought your compassion, your need to help, was a sign of weakness that she could manipulate."

"You're right about that," Clark told her. "But that doesn't explain why she shot Ralph and claimed you did it."

Then he heard the fire alarm and the screams – Midtown and not too far away from the hotel.

Lois seemed to read his mind. "Go."

-o-o-o-

Lois didn't know exactly when Clark came back to the hotel room. She had fallen asleep watching GNN news. The fire had been in one of the older high-rise apartment buildings and the fire marshal would be looking into it – Superman had reported smelling accelerants in one of the apartments and there were two dead, but not as a result of the fire.

The fire was major news but the GNN reporter on the scene, Alice Burns, seemed more interested in asking Superman about the accusations against Lois Lane than asking about the mysterious fire.

"I'm afraid I can't comment on an ongoing police investigation except to say that I know for a fact that Ms. Lane was nowhere in the vicinity of the Daily Planet Building when Mister Gunderson was shot," Superman said.

"And how do you know that?" Burns demanded. "Were you with her?"

Someone else might have missed the slight tightening of Superman's mouth and the little twitch along his jaw but Lois caught it. Superman was getting more than just a little annoyed with Burns's line of questioning.

"As I'm sure you know, Ms. Lane was with her husband and child at the time of the incident," Superman stated. Then he disappeared, nearly bowling Burns over with his wake.

Clark had been wrong about Dunning's arrest taking the heat off of them for a while – Superman was a much bigger celebrity than Barry Dunning could ever hope to be. And the bigger the celebrity in the water was, the more the sharks circled and the less likely they would be distracted from their potential prey.

International news wasn't any less depressing. Latislan and Podansk were still posturing and rattling their sabers. Troops were massing on both sides of their joint border and the pundits were predicting it was only a matter of time before someone made a mistake and the two armies started firing on one another.

When Lois finally fell asleep, her dreams were filled with explosions and fire.

Clark was seated at the little table by the window when she awoke. His briefcase was open and he was sorting through documents. His laptop was also open, the screen illuminating his face. Lois couldn't see what was on the screen.

"Hi," Lois said, raising herself on her elbows to watch him. "I saw the fire on the news."

"And Alice Burns's ambush?" Clark asked.

"Hard to miss," Lois said. "You know it's only going to get worse until the cops arrest the person who shot Ralph."

"It's not going to get better until we figure out why your relationship with Superman is being targeted."

"You don't think it's just Lana out to get the one guy who turned her down?"

"No," Clark said. "I mean, yes, Lana was a duplicitous insult to a female dog back in high school and she's no better now, but despite what she said to us back in Smallville, I don't think she gives rat's… you know… about me _or_ you. It'd be too much trouble."

"So, why did she shoot Ralph?"

"That's a good question," Clark said. "But I do know this. There's a lot more going on here than we know about."

"There usually is," Lois said, climbing out of bed. Jason was still soundly asleep, his blanket pulled over his head. Lois occasionally wondered how he could breathe when he pulled the covers so close.

She peered at the picture on Clark's laptop. It was an old photo of Richard White with a woman Lois didn't recognize. Both of them were dressed formally, smiling at the camera. In the background Lois recognized Lana Lang dressed in a formal gown. Her arm was entwined with the arm of a grizzled older man in a military uniform with lots of gold braid.

"Clark?"

"Did Richard ever talk to you about what he did before he came to Metropolis?"

"He was an information officer for the NIA. They hired him straight out of the air force to be a pilot for them then he got transferred into information because of his contacts with the media."

"So he was working for the NIA when SHADO was officially shut down?"

"I guess so," Lois said, wondering where Clark was going with his line of questioning. "Why?"

"Just trying to get the timeline straight," Clark said. "I was given some information that indicated that Richard White had personal reasons for investigating the whole Latislan/Podansk situation and that was why he supposedly left the NIA."

"He told me he left the NIA during one of their periodic shakeups," Lois said. "He was unhappy at some of the things they were doing, some of the things they were covering up. When he was given that chance to leave, he took it. Perry hired him for our London office as soon as he was free." She frowned. "Why the sudden interest in Richard?"

"Did Richard ever mention living in Podansk, maybe even something about a girlfriend there?" Clark asked.

Lois shrugged. "He didn't like to talk about what he did specifically while he was with the NIA. He did tell me he'd had a girlfriend and she'd been murdered. He never told me her name, but there were times he'd wake up screaming. I figured he was the one who found the body. You didn't answer my question about your sudden interest."

"Them." Clark indicated the photo. "Margosha Yerikovna Kasparova. She and her father were found murdered two days after this photo was taken. Allegedly, Richard's assignment was to entice Margosha and her father into leaving Podansk for France or Germany where Interpol could arrest the father. The mission didn't go as planned."

Lois stared at her husband. "You don't really think Richard had anything to do with that, do you?"

"No," Clark said. "In fact, I suspect the deed was done by the Podansk Security Police and Richard barely escaped with his life. The NIA let Richard retire from active service because he'd been made. He wasn't any use to them and Perry White's nephew wasn't someone who could just disappear."

"Do you think Richard knew Lana?" Lois asked.

"They knew each other socially, at least," Clark said. "The man Lana's with is General Yerik Illyavitch Kasparov. Margosha's father and President Kasparov's late brother."

"So, what was a girl from Smallville doing hobnobbing with generals in Podansk seven years ago?" Lois asked.

"That is a very good question."

There was a chime from Clark's computer – an incoming message. He reached over and opened the message from someone identifying themselves as 'Lord Darth' then he clicked the link in the message. GNN's home page opened and Lois suppressed a gasp at the video prominently displayed on the page. Clark turned up the volume.

Alice Burns was doing a commentary. "This is the hotel where Lois Lane spent the night at the request of the Metropolis police. But as you can see, she wasn't alone…" On the video, the picture zoomed in on one of the upper floors of the hotel, catching Superman in the act of gliding onto the tiny balcony and opening a sliding glass door. Then he disappeared into the room beyond, closing the door behind him.

"Who the hell is doing this?" Lois demanded.

Clark just shook his head.


	8. Escalation

When the world has got hold of a lie, it is astonishing how hard it is to kill it. You beat it over the head, till it seems to have given up the ghost, and behold! the next day it is as healthy as ever.  
**Edward G. Bulwer-Lytton  
**_British writer and politician (1803 – 1873)_

There is nothing in the world more shameful than establishing one's self on lies and fables.  
**Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe  
**_German writer (__1749 – 1832)_

"I cannot believe that people are buying this bunk," Lois complained as she and Clark stepped out of the elevators onto the newsroom floor. The faked video of Superman visiting her hotel room the night before was all over the news and the internet. And even though the Daily Planet had printed the story about the first video being edited and therefore suspect, it didn't seem to help.

"I mean, yesterday was bad enough," Lois said. "But today it's like I'm the Jezebel that took down their hero."

"If it makes you feel any better, they're not too crazy about their hero, either," Clark said quietly. "The ladies down in the business office are using Superman's picture for a dart board."

"You're joking."

"I wish I were."

"This is just ridiculous," Lois said, waving her hands in frustration. "I simply cannot believe that people are actually buying into this bull."

As they arrived at Clark's desk, Lois stopped and stared at the pile of cards and baked goods that covered the desktop. Festive balloons floated above the computer monitor. The people seated nearest the desk smirked then turned away when Lois glared at them.

"What the devil is all this?" Lois demanded.

Clark opened one of the cards. "Um… condolence gifts for me?"

"Homemade fudge?"

Clark shrugged. "The card says it's from one of the women downstairs."

"Oh, I see. I eat crow, you get fudge."

"Half of me gets the fudge, the other half ducks darts," Clark murmured. "I don't know how to react to people anymore."

"Well, I do. I'm tired of being the bad guy, when the _real_ bad guy's the creep who took that video and spread it all over the airwaves, making an innocent conversation look like something despicable."

She uncovered the plate of fudge and took a piece. It was almost to her mouth when Clark grabbed her hand.

"It doesn't smell right," he murmured.

"This whole thing doesn't smell right," Lois complained.

"No, I mean the fudge doesn't smell right," Clark said. He took the piece from her hand and put it back on the plate. "In fact, most of this doesn't smell right."

"Poison?" Lois asked.

Clark nodded then grabbed the wastepaper can from under his desk. He dumped the baked goods and candies into it and tied the liner closed.

"This makes no sense at all. I can understand targeting me. But why go after you?" Lois asked.

"Anyone who knows anything about us would know I'd share the goodies with you, especially the chocolate."

"They'd also know you'd share them with the newsroom and with Jason," Lois said. "This is way out of control."

"Lois, Clark!" Perry called out from his office door. He beckoned them to come to his office and shut the door behind them. Polly and Jimmy were already in the office.

Perry nodded to the television monitor on the credenza. The video of Superman's alleged late-night visit was on the screen. "What the hell is this?" Perry demanded.

Clark answered. "That wasn't from last night. First, that's not the Midtown Hilton and that's where we spent the night under the name of Mister and Missus Charles King. I have the receipt. And second, even if Superman _had_ decided to visit Lois last night, assuming he was that stupid, the rooms on the thirty-third floor of the Midtown Hilton do not have usable balconies or sliding glass doors."

"It's a very good fake," Jimmy commented.

Clark was silent for a long moment, staring at the screen. "The video itself isn't a fake, but it certainly has been misrepresented," he said finally. "It was taken about six months ago. I don't know if it was ever aired. The woman is Carmella Gleason and what you don't see in the video was that she wasn't alone in the room. There were police officers looking into the abduction of her little girl. Superman was asked to help look for the child. He found her body instead."

Perry rubbed his hands together, a rare smile on his face. "Jimmy, given what we now know on the provenance of that video, find out everything you can about it – who took it, who had it. Take Meyers with you and confirm that the Kings stayed at the Midtown and the rest of what Clark says about the building is true. Get me photographs. And if the manager can positively ID Clark and Lois as the Kings, so much the better. "

Perry nodded to the bag still in Clark's hand. "You didn't like the goodies the girls downstairs sent up?"

"Maybe I'm a little paranoid with somebody out to get my wife," Clark said.

Perry nodded. "Polly, you go with Lois down to the police lab and have that stuff checked out," he ordered.

"And me, sir?" Clark asked.

"Aren't you supposed to be figuring out what's going on with Latislan and Podansk? I need something by deadline."

-o-o-o-

Clark settled behind his desk in the side office, half listening to the news reports on GNN. The discovery that Richard White had been with the NIA and involved with Margosha Yerikova before her death was disturbing to say the least. But Clark wasn't sure how that related to Mardon and Schenko and the current problems between Latislan and Podansk, or if it was just a bizarre coincidence. And Lana being involved in the whole mess was simply… freakish was the word that came to mind. That photo was taken not long before Pete Ross filed for divorce from her. Clark realized that Pete hadn't given him the full story of their breakup.

Natalia Korchek, Clark's temporary assistant, walked into the office with two cups of coffee. She placed one on the desk for him. "Where were Ms. Harper and Ms. Lane going with the gifts the ladies downstairs gave you?" she asked.

"They're having them checked out," Clark said absently. "Can't be too careful, you know. Look, I need you to get down to research and get me everything you can on General Yerik Kasparov and his daughter, especially their murders. It was in early two thousand, February, I think."

Natalia's breath hitched and her heart rate jumped.

"Natalia, is there something wrong?"

"Why do you need to know about the General?"

She seemed inordinately tense.

"It's part of the recent history of the region. That makes it pertinent."

Clark noticed Brock Thompson's face come on the TV screen. Outside the office the noise level had dropped as reporters and gofers stopped to watch the news bulletin.

"…With peace talks broken down because of the Superman scandal," Thompson was saying, "border skirmishes have erupted between Latislan and Podansk. Sources close to both governments say that local missile base commanders have been given the launch codes and are simply awaiting authorization to launch. U.N. observers have been unable to determine whether or not the missiles have nuclear payloads…"

"Go," Clark ordered Natalia. She simply stood there, staring at the monitor. "Go," Clark repeated more loudly. After a moment she seemed to shake herself and hurried about of the office. Clark locked the door and closed the blinds.

"We have satellite confirmation that missiles have been launched…" Thompson said.

Clark was out the office window and across the ocean almost before Thompson finished his statement.

-o-o-o-

Perry White glowered at the TV monitor on the pillar closest to Jimmy Olsen's desk. Perry wasn't a stranger to war reporting, nor was he oblivious to the fallout of international events on the American public. He had hired his nephew, Richard, to help bolster the international section of the paper based on his experience in analyzing the causes and effects of seemingly innocuous events as they played out on the international stage.

Perry was annoyed that, with the exception of Clark, no one on his staff had been paying any attention to the ongoing events in that part of the world, and Clark had only been made aware of the problems because of his other job. But Perry had noticed that even Clark seemed surprised at how quickly a relatively minor political squall had escalated into a storm of hurricane proportions. The obviously deliberate smear campaign against Superman wasn't helping any.

"…Wait a minute..." Thompson was saying on the screen. "Sources now say an unidentified object is streaking to intercept one of the missiles..."

Thompson listened to something coming over his ear bud. After a moment he looked at the camera again. "Apparently, that unidentified object was Superman. He has intercepted the first missile and is apparently heading off to do the same to the others..."

"All right, Superman!" Jimmy crowed.

The reaction from the rest of the newsroom crew was more sober. Jimmy ducked his head in embarrassment for his outburst then turned back to his monitor.

"Bingo," Connie Meyers called out from her own desk. Perry waited for her to continue.

"Just talked with the night manager of the Midtown Hilton," Connie went on. "He has confirmed that Lois and Clark Kent spent the night there under the names of Mister and Missus Charles King. He recognized them from the news reports. He also confirms the video being aired of Superman on the balcony did _not_ happen at his building. In fact, senior management has been on to GNN to get them to pull the video and make a public apology for misrepresenting their establishment."

"So, what's the hold up with GNN?" Perry asked.

"Pilar Johnson, Burns's producer, wants to talk to Burns before taking any action. However, Burns isn't answering her phone and nobody seems to know where she is."

"In the meantime, Lois and Superman are left twisting in the wind until GNN grows some?" Perry grated.

"I'm starting to dig into Burns's background," Connie said. "Apparently she was low man on the totem pole, covering the dog shows, fluffy stuff. But she was trying to get her foot in on heavier news and may have been bucking up against the old guard over there."

"Faking a story isn't exactly a smart way to break into the big leagues," Perry commented.

"She had to have known she'd get caught," Jimmy added. "Clark was mistaken, by the way. That video ran six months ago – January fourteenth, to be exact, on Barry Dunning's show. The Gleasons sued Dunning, claiming Dunning's people knowingly endangered their child by airing Superman's involvement in the case. Dunning settled out of court and the details of the settlement are sealed."

"Curiouser and curiouser," Perry murmured. "Anything more on the witnesses to Lois's alleged infidelities with Superman?"

Connie grinned at him. "The supposed housekeeper is an illegal by the name of Benita Lopez. She didn't know the street Lois's house is on much less what color it is, or what the kitchen looks like. The woman claiming to be the nanny is one Galina Kalikova – a Russian hooker with police records on two continents, maybe three. She didn't even know the name of her alleged charge. Lois's attorney is looking into pressing charges against both of them and against the idiot who decided to go live with the interviews without verifying the facts."

"Anything to link them together?" Perry asked.

"Still digging," Connie told him. "My gut says neither of them would have come up with this B.S. on their own."

"Keep me posted," Perry ordered. He looked around and spotted Tom Weaver settling in at his desk.

"Weaver, what's happening on the Gunderson case?" Perry yelled across the room.

"He's expected to make a full recovery," Weaver said. "But the cops are playing this one real close to the vest. All they're saying is that it's too early in the investigation for them to say much beyond the fact that Lois was never considered a viable suspect."

"Can we print that?" Perry demanded.

"Yeah," Weaver said. "I got that much from them. Plus, the MPD has their A-team on the case, at Mister Wayne's insistence."

"An attack on a journalist is not something to be taken lightly," Perry reminded him. "I think that's something our illustrious publisher appreciates."

-o-o-o-

"Explain to me, again, why Perry sent you along with me?" Lois asked her companion, Polly Harper, as they approached the squad room that belonged to Bill Henderson's elite unit in MPD's downtown headquarters. Despite Lois's best efforts, she hadn't been able to lose Polly.

"Believe me, I'd rather be chasing down my own leads instead of baby sitting you," the older woman groused. "The powers that be don't think you should be out and about alone, and Perry agreed with them. The way they figure it, you were lucky you had an iron clad alibi when Ralph got shot. You may not be so lucky next time."

"So I end up with a partner I don't want," Lois grumbled.

"I thought I was the one who ended up with a partner _I_ didn't want," Polly retorted as she pushed open the door to the Special Investigations office. The noise and barely controlled chaos always reminded Lois of the newsroom on a heavy news day. Today was no different. Detectives were seated at their desks, some on phones, some talking to people Lois wouldn't want to meet in a dark alley even with Clark by her side. Still others were working on reports and chatting with one another.

Lois and Polly were given perfunctory nods as they passed through the crowded room heading for Henderson's office.

Henderson was standing in the doorway as though he'd been forewarned of their arrival. "Lane and Harper," he grumbled. "What have I done to warrant seeing both of you?" He eyed the plastic bag in Lois's hand. "Are you resorting to bribes now?"

Lois shook her head. "These were left on Clark's desk this morning, supposedly consolation gifts. Maybe Clark's getting as paranoid as I am because of this smear campaign, but he said they didn't smell right. Mister White thought it was better to be safe than sorry."

Henderson beckoned one of his officers over to take charge of the bag with instructions to run the contents over to the labs to be analyzed. Then he brought the two reporters into his office.

"So, what really brings you here, Lois?" Henderson asked.

"Do I have to have an ulterior motive?" Lois asked.

"You always do."

Lois sighed. After all her years of covering the City Beat, Henderson knew her too well. "Polly's covering the Gunderson case," Lois explained, hoping he wouldn't ask for more details. "I thought, since I'm involved, I'd help out a little."

Polly snorted.

Henderson settled into his chair, a wry smile on his face. "My team wouldn't even be on this except that your publisher is convinced that the incident with Gunderson is a lot more than it seems. The chief and I agree with him."

"Are there any developments in the Gunderson case that you can tell us about?" Polly asked.

Henderson sighed. "We have identified his assailant, a woman named Lana Lang," he said. He was addressing Polly but his eyes were on Lois. "She's Senator Ross's ex-wife and a former high-school classmate of Ms. Lane's husband."

Polly gave a low whistle. "Any ideas on her motive?"

"We have ideas but we really won't know anything until we talk to her."

"Is an arrest imminent?" Polly asked.

Henderson shook his head. "Despite asking the State Department to put a hold on her passport, she managed to skip the country. We've sent a notice along to Interpol that she's a person of interest to us, but since we're not looking at a capital crime, our request won't be a real high priority for them."

Polly whistled again. "Senator Ross's ex has skipped the country…" She gave Lois a speculative look. "And Clark knows said ex-wife. Is there more I should know about?"

Lois shrugged. "Clark dated her in high school." It was going to come out eventually any way.

Polly nodded sagely. "So shooting Ralph may have been a way to get back at you for whatever?"

"I wouldn't have thought so," Lois admitted. "But there is the possibility she knew Richard before he came to Metropolis."

Henderson gave her a surprised look.

"Clark found a society photo from about seven years ago - Lana Lang and Richard, with their respective escorts, at a diplomatic reception," Lois explained.

There was a knock on the office door and Emily Douglass stuck her head in. "Sex Crimes just sent us a heads up. Alice Burns was found dead in her apartment in North Bridge."

"Isn't Alice Burns the one…?" Polly began.

"The one who aired a six month old video clip claiming it was Superman visiting me _last_ night," Lois completed for her. "Connie's looking into that and so is legal." Lois turned to Douglass. "You said Sex Crimes was called in?"

Lois caught the look Douglass gave Henderson. The press was not included among Douglass's favorite class of people. Henderson nodded permission.

Douglass shrugged and answered, "Her producer found her and called it in to the precinct. The vic was tied down, raped and strangled. It almost looks like the work of the High Rise Strangler except, apparently, Burns didn't swing that way."

Lois nodded. She'd covered the High Rise Strangler cases. Seven years before there had been a string of brutal rapes in expensive high-rise condos and apartments. Then five women were found raped and murdered. DNA as well as modus operandi had linked all the cases together, but nothing else had given any clues to the identity of the perpetrator. The killer wasn't in any of the DNA databases under a name, real or assumed, which meant he had never been arrested and had his DNA sampled. But what had been truly frightening about the five murders was the fact that, like the rapes before them, there had been no sign of struggle, no sign of forced entry. Apparently the women had invited the killer into their homes despite warnings that a serial rapist was on the loose and apparently targeting single professional women.

"So you don't think Burns might have simply picked a guy up in a bar and invited him up to her apartment?" Lois asked.

Douglass shook her head. "According to her producer, Burns wasn't much into guys. Maybe that's why she was out to trash Superman."

"So, if Burns didn't invite the killer into her apartment, how did he get in? I assume she had an alarm," Polly said.

"Maybe the person she _did_ invite in let in the killer," Lois suggested.

Henderson grinned at her. "It's not too late to join the force."

Lois shrugged. He'd made the offer before, more than once, and she'd turned him down more than once. "Cops can't put the fear of God, or the press, into the mayor," she said.

Henderson chuckled and waved the women out of his office. Lois turned to leave with Polly but Henderson called her back.

"Shut the door," he ordered. Lois gave him a curious look but complied.

Henderson opened a desk drawer and pulled out a leather case. He pushed it across the desk top toward her.

Lois unzipped the case and opened it. Her eyes widened - nestled in the case was a thirty-five caliber automatic.

"I know you know how to use it," Henderson said. "I'll feel a lot better if you can defend yourself."

"Henderson, I'm a seventh dan black belt and you know who I'm married to."

"And I know he's trying to sort through that mess over in Eastern Europe," Henderson told her. "Which means he's not here to keep an eye on you. And we both know Burns's murder isn't random."

Lois studied the gun. It was a tempting offer. She zipped the case closed and pushed it back to Henderson. "A journalist with a gun is called a combatant."

"I thought that was just in war zones."

"And you don't think someone's declared war on Superman and me?"

"I think someone's trying to, and I think Burns's murder means that the other side is losing control. They're decompensating and that means they're going to get more and more dangerous."

"Bill, we don't know if it's one person who started the smear campaign and everybody else just jumped on the bandwagon or if it's actually a conspiracy. Burns had to have known she was going to get caught misrepresenting that video. That would have meant an end to any hopes she had of a news career, anywhere. And being sued by the Daily Planet wouldn't do GNN any favors, either."

Henderson nodded thoughtfully. "You're sure you don't want the gun?"

"Are you sure you trust me with it?"

"When's the last time Maggie Sawyer took you to Roland's Neck?" Henderson asked, referring to the MPD's Firearms and Tactics division near Pelham Inlet Park.

"Just before she left for Gotham," Lois admitted. Captain Sawyer had been one of Lois's closest friends in the MPD until the officer left to head up the Special Crimes Unit for the Gotham City Police Department. That was four years ago.

"Then it's past time," Henderson said. "We can check out the crime scene on our way."

Lois's eyes narrowed as she regarded him. "You know I'm not covering that story, not to mention that I'm the dreaded press, so what gives?"

"I'm trying to improve the MPD's public image by being nice to the press?" He grinned at her.

She stared at him, not buying into it.

His expression turned more solemn. "Big Blue is busy and I figure you need somebody watching your back right now. I _don't_ want to be the guy who tells your husband that some squirrel took you out."

-o-o-o-

It had taken far longer than Superman wanted, or expected, to deal with the missile threat in both Podansk and Latislan.

He managed to intercept and disable the missiles that had been launched. Luckily these particular missiles hadn't been nuclear, but even conventional explosives would have been disastrous had they reached their targets – the opposition,s capital cities.

Superman was able to determine the missiles' launch points and quick bursts of heat vision disabled the missile controls on both sides. It was only a temporary solution, but it would at least buy the diplomats time to get both sides talking.

Both sets of generals howled in outrage at Superman's interference but he quickly determined the first launch had come from Latislan.

"How dare you interfere in our internal affairs!" General Orloff, Navance's chief of staff screamed when Superman landed at his office in the capital of Latislan.

"I dare when you target innocents," Superman responded. "Other nations' innocents. What you do to your own people I might despise, but there's not much I can do about it. But we both know there is nothing that war could ever achieve that you could not better achieve without it."

"That's very humorous, coming from a man who flies into women's bedrooms at night," Orloff scoffed. "You're no better than a common politician, all talk and no substance, taking advantage of the people's trust to have your way."

"So you take your disenchantment with me out on your neighbors?"

Orloff glowered at him then dropped his eyes. "The first launch was a technical error," he said softly. "His Excellency had not authorized an attack, as yet. He is meeting with President Kasparov as we speak. He still has hopes that an equitable solution can be arrived at, no thanks to you."

Superman was surprised to hear that the two leaders were meeting – after they had chosen to break off talks due to the smear campaign, the President of the United States had offered to mediate. He was turned down as well. "If I cannot trust Superman, how can I trust a cowboy?" Kasparov had said with Navance nodding beside him.

"At least they're talking," Superman said. "Do you mind telling me who managed to talk them into it?"

"An American, Randolph Goode."


	9. Easy Targets

The toughest thing about the power of trust is that it's very difficult to build and very easy to destroy.  
**Thomas J. Watson  
**_American businessman (1874 – 1956)_

The end move in politics is always to pick up a gun.**  
R. Buckminster Fuller**_  
American architect and futurist (1895 – 1983)_

Randolph Goode looked around the conference room. His people had done a sterling job of turning the room into an appropriate venue for international negotiations. The framed posters –- oversize blow-ups of some of Goode's favorite Inquisitor front pages –- had been replaced by good fine art reproductions. A small buffet had been set out on the credenza but Navance, Kasparov and their aides seemed unimpressed by the staff's efforts.

Goode tried to cajole them into tasting the spread he'd had laid on.

"Forgive my bluntness, Mr. Goode, but I am a suspicious man by nature - why are you so interested in resurrecting these talks?" Kasparov demanded.

"Yes, what do you get out of it?" Navance chimed in.

"Why, I get what we all get potentially – peace on earth, goodwill toward man," Goode stated. "And since I've been a candidate for the Peace Prize, I thought this was the least I could do, see if we can't come up with a solution together. Just because I print what people want to read doesn't mean I'm not a good citizen of the world." He offered Navance another _hors d'oeuvre_. "Shrimp?"

Navance sniffed as though insulted. He wasn't a large man and Goode knew he was sensitive about his height. The publisher smiled inwardly. Navance was _so_ easy to manipulate.

Kasparov tasted one of the little shrimp appetizers and grimaced. "You said Superman would be here to explain himself. Where is he?"

Goode tried to look innocent. "Well, he promised me he'd be here..." he said. "Maybe Lois Lane got tickets to 'Mama Mia,' or something," he suggested. Neither leader seemed amused by his joke. "What can I say other than it appears as though he's disappointed us yet again. However, I will be more than happy to shepherd you through the talks, if you will allow me. Come, sit!" He beckoned them to come to the table.

The conference room doors burst open and Superman strode in, a grim expression on his face. It was all Goode could do to keep from gaping. The Blue Boy Scout was supposed to be busy. He'd been assured Superman would be too distracted to pay attention to Goode's little meeting.

"Surprised, Mister Goode?" Superman asked. "I thought you were expecting me."

"I… uh," Goode sputtered.

Superman turned to the two leaders, ignoring Goode. "Gentlemen, you must call a cease fire immediately. Believe me, there is nothing that war could ever achieve that you could not better achieve without it."

Navance snorted. "Who are _you_ to lecture us? You're no better than a common politician. You stand for nothing."

To Goode's annoyance, Superman seemed unperturbed by the accusation.

"I stand for what is right – and what's right is peace," Superman said. "I beg you not to let any side issues distract you from our common goal."

"Peace is built on the cornerstones of trust, Superman," Kasparov spat. "And if either one of us is to trust you again, first you must explain this." He tossed a copy of the Inquisitor on the table – the one with the photo of Lois allegedly giving him her room key.

"And this," Navance said, tossing a copy of the Dirt Digger next to the Inquisitor. This one had the photo of Superman supposedly entering Lois Lane's hotel room.

Goode saw his chance. "Yes, Superman, we're all ears."

"Gentlemen, they say that pictures don't lie, but they do, especially when manipulated by experts," Superman stated. "But that aside, you trusted me enough once to ask me to mediate talks between you. You need to trust me again."

"Superman, General Navance and myself... we understand such things," Kasparov began. "We are men of the world, but our people are not so sophisticated. They are outraged by what they read - they won't allow you to broker our peace talks unless you can give them a more... acceptable explanation."

As Kasparov was speaking, Goode's assistant, Hankins, walked in and hurried over to her boss. She whispered, "GNN has breaking news on Alice Burns."

"Are we covered there?" Goode whispered back. Hankins nodded.

Goode used the remote to turn on the wall-mounted monitor. The sudden sound caught everyone's attention. On the screen, Brock Thompson looked grim as he told of the murder of Alice Burns.

Goode was gratified to see that the news report had caught everyone's attention, including Superman. He flicked off the monitor.

"It just keeps getting worse, doesn't it?" Goode asked conversationally. "The brave journalist who exposed your sleazy tryst with a married woman found dead?"

"We both know the story she aired was a complete fabrication," Superman stated calmly. "The real question is, why this so-called 'brave journalist' chose to air a story she knew full well was completely false. A story she knew would ruin her professionally.?"

"Can this be proven?" Navance asked.

"Yes," Superman said.

Goode snorted. "Like we're supposed to believe that where there's smoke there's no fire or you don't have an unhealthy interest in the redoubtable Ms. Lane."

Superman's expression had been calm but now Goode saw an ominous glint in his eyes.

"Mister Goode, despite appearances, I was born on another planet. What makes you believe I am even capable of having a sexual interest, healthy or otherwise, in a mere human?" Superman asked.

"And you say you never lie," Goode responded. "Where were you when Burns was screaming her lungs out, begging for mercy?"

"That depends on when she was killed," Superman said.

"Convenient, you being busy when one of the people who was out to show the world your true colors was being murdered in her own bed."

Goode caught the slight narrowing of Superman's eyes and a frisson of fear ran down his back. Had he pushed too far?

"Mister Goode, I sincerely advise you and your friends to stop your smear campaign against Ms. Lane and her family. You won't like the consequences," Superman said.

"Is that a threat?" Goode demanded.

"No. Threats sound foolish in the daylight, don't you agree?" Superman said. "But it _is_ a promise."

Goode snorted in derision. "So much for not having an interest in a married woman. As far as denials go, that one ranks right up there with Watergate."

"As does your claim of not knowing where I was," Superman countered. "Or do you want me to believe you knew nothing of General Orloff's 'accidental' missile attack on Podansk?"

Navance paled. "We are finished here!" he announced, slamming his briefcase shut.

"My armies will crush you," Kasparov yelled at Navance.

"My missiles will destroy you first," Navance yelled back. He gestured to his aide, barking at him in Podanskese.

Kasparov snapped his own briefcase closed and headed for the door, his aide trailing at his heels.

"Gentlemen, please…" Superman began.

"Enough talk!" Navance growled.

"Mr. President, General, please," Superman began again. "For the sake of your peoples, you must keep trying to come to an accord."

The two leaders kept walking.

"Gentlemen," Superman tried once again. Goode had to admit, he was persistent.

"The vultures are already circling your two countries. Bets are being taken as to how many dead there will be and who will pick up the pieces when it's over," Superman said. "I can't stop you from condemning your people to death in a conflict neither side can win. I can't stop you from choosing to listen to the voices that say war is the only option and I can't stop you from believing everything you read in tabloids noted for their fiction. All I _can_ do is ask that you step back from the brink and take a serious look at what's going on."

Navance and Kasparov exchanged a look of consideration.

"I am willing to meet again tomorrow," Kasparov said. "Here, at noon?"

Navance nodded agreement.

"Excellent," Goode chimed in. "Noon it is. You won't regret your decision." He watched the two leaders leave, Superman following behind them. Goode was closing the door when Hankin slipped in.

"Our 'friends' are on the phone," Hankin told him, holding out a small handset. Goode's gut clenched. "Superman stopped the missile attack," she added unnecessarily

"Like I didn't know that?" Goode groused. He took the phone from her.

"We were assured," the voice on the other end began, "that between your efforts to discredit him and General Orloff's unique talents, Superman would not interfere in the border dispute between our 'friends'."

Goode felt nausea rising as he listened. These were not good people to disappoint.

"People I thought I could rely on… well, you know how it goes," Goode said.

"Yes, we do know how it goes," the voice said. "We hope _you_ appreciate the consequences for you should you fail to neutralize Superman for us."

Goode's mouth had dried up so he could hardly talk. "I understand," he managed to stammer.

"Good," the voice said. "Now, we have an additional little chore for you…"

-o-o-o-

Superman hovered high over the city listening to Goode. It wasn't ethical, and even the legality was questionable, but it _was_ necessary. The overheard phone conversation confirmed Superman's suspicions –- Goode was actively involved in the smear campaign against Lois and himself.

Also It also appeared that Goode and whoever he was taking orders from were also actively working for the escalation of hostilities between Podansk and Latislan. Superman was certain that Navance had been unpleasantly surprised by the news about Orloff and the missile attack on Podansk. He was equally certain that Goode had been aware of it – the heart rates of the two leaders and their aides had jumped at the news and Superman had been able to smell the stress hormones. Goode, on the other hand, had shown stress only when Superman appeared, not at the news that the war he'd been allegedly trying to avoid had broken out.

Then there was the question of how much Goode knew of Burns's death. The news report had been brief and had given little hard information aside from the fact that the woman had been found dead and the police were working on the case. Were Goode's statements about how Burns died based on assumptions and guesses or an inside knowledge of what happened to the woman?

Goode's caller didn't say much more, only that Hankin had the details concerning Goode's 'little chore'.

Superman homed in on Lois's heart beat. She was with Bill Henderson at an apartment in North Bridge. A crime scene unit was working there. _Burns's apartment?_ The body had already been moved out.

Clark Kent straightened his tie as he approached the yellow police tape. He flashed his press pass at the officer in the doorway.

"Kent!" Henderson called from inside the apartment. Clark ducked under the tape.

"GNN aired the report on Alice Burns," Clark said quietly. "No details, of course." He gave his wife a curious look. "Did Perry assign you to this one?"

Lois shook her head. "I was with Henderson when the report came in. I'm just along for the ride."

"When did she die?" Clark asked Henderson.

One of the other officers spoke up. "First estimate puts it about six in the morning."

Clark frowned. He was in the city with Lois and Jason when it happened.

"Something wrong?" Henderson asked.

"Superman was just in a meeting with Randolph Goode. Goode wanted to know where Superman was when Burns was 'screaming her lungs out, begging for mercy'."

"And where _was_ Superman?"

"Around, I'm sure," Clark answered. He dropped his voice to a near whisper. "He didn't hear anyone screaming for mercy around six this morning."

"Burns had been gagged," Henderson said equally softly. "It's unlikely Superman would have heard much of anything."

"I doubt that'll make him feel any better," Clark said. "The media's already having another field day. The woman who 'outed' Superman's late night liaison found murdered."

"We don't know if her murder was related to that lie or not," Henderson said.

"When Goode's assistant came in to tell him there was breaking news about Burns on GNN, he asked if they were 'covered' there," Clark related.

Henderson sighed. "It's not a lot to link Goode to Burns, unless you have something else?"

Clark shook his head. "It's just awfully coincidental that this smear campaign started at about the same time Superman got involved in the problems between Podansk and Latislan and Goode has managed to get himself involved the negotiations."

"That's not something I can hand to an ADA to take to the grand jury," Henderson said. "And it could be just a coincidence."

"True," Clark admitted. "But I thought you should know."

Henderson nodded and turned to Lois. "Ready to go?"

"Go where?" Clark asked. He had assumed Lois would go with him back to the office.

Lois waved a hand in Henderson's direction. "Bill thinks it's been too long since I had some target practice."

"You're welcome to come along," Henderson offered.

"No thanks," Clark said. "I need to get back to work." He gave Lois a quick kiss but she reached up and grabbed him, giving him a much longer sensual kiss.

One of the nearby officers whistled. Lois pulled back and grinned. "I don't want there to be any doubts as to who the man in my life is."

"Maybe we can skip all this and just go home?" Clark suggested with a matching grin.

Lois sighed. "I would love to but I don't think we should feed the bullpen's prurient fantasies… I'll see you at the office later."

-o-o-o-

The MPD pistol range hadn't changed much since Lois's last visit. A light rain had lessened the dust from the gravel parking lot, but the area still sounded like a war zone as officers from all over the city lined up to fire off live rounds at far targets.

Lois and Maggie Sawyer had come out here at least once a month before Maggie moved to Gotham. Richard hadn't been comfortable with Lois having a gun in the house, especially when Jason was old enough to get into things, so she gave her trusty target pistol to her father for safe keeping. Now Lois found herself wondering what Richard's real motive was for talking her into getting rid of her gun.

One of the khaki clad instructors came up to her and Henderson. Henderson introduced him as Bennie Farmer, a long time MPD firearms instructor. He had two .38 revolvers with him.

"I thought you guys didn't use these anymore," Lois commented. The .38 was small and reliable but Lois knew most officers carried semiautomatics these days – they were faster, but not necessarily better.

"I'm old-fashioned," Henderson said.

"Besides, it's usually easier for beginners to handle," Farmer added.

"Careful who you're calling a beginner," Lois warned, taking the revolver from him and loading in six rounds. She put on the ear protectors Farmer handed her and stepped into an empty space between two officers firing at man-shaped targets set into the ground thirty feet way. She took her stance, feet in line with her shoulders, both arms straight out steadying the gun. She squeezed the trigger and a hole appeared in the middle of the drawn target. She pulled the trigger five more times and a neat little pattern appeared around the first hole.

"My dad taught me to fire a revolver like this when I was ten," Lois explained as she handed the revolver back to Farmer. "By the time I was thirteen, I could handle any personal weapon the army had." She peered critically at her target. "But I _am_ out of practice. My pattern should have been closer together."

Farmer just stared at her a long moment. Then he said, "Lois Lane, the reporter, right? Your dad wouldn't happen to be General Sam Lane, would ithe?"

Lois grinned at him. "You got it. Now, I hear the new Firearms and Tactics Simulator is something else. Want to show me?"

Henderson chuckled as he led her deeper into the MPD enclave. Lois knew from her many previous visits that the Firearms and Tactics division at Roland's Neck held more than just the pistol range. It was an old naval base that had been sold to the city for a pittance many years before. It currently housed the bomb squad's detonation pit, a heli-pad, a boat launch, a small air strip, and underground bunkers that were reputed to have one of every firearm ever manufactured. Roland's Neck was MPD's practice area for urban warfare and almost no one outside the MPD even knew it was there.

The ground was covered with spent cartridges but Lois resisted the temptation to pick any up. Maggie had told her once that instructors had to have periodic tests for lead poisoning and police dogs weren't even allowed on the grounds – the lead contamination in the soil was so high that dogs absorbed the heavy metal through their paws and died.

The Firearms and Tactics Simulator was in the furthest of four pre-fabricated shacks. The FATS logo was hanging from the railing. Farmer had managed to get there ahead of them and was waiting by the door. Lois blinked as she stepped into the darkness beyond. The only illumination in the cabin was from a console near the door. Farmer closed the door and went to the console. The far wall suddenly lit up and Lois realized it was a large projection screen. A picture of a rundown apartment building was on the screen, the people in the shot frozen in place.

Farmer handed her a semiautomatic. It had the weight and balance of a real gun. Farmer explained the gun was connected to the computer controlling the simulation. It was all like a super videogame.

"Ready?" Farmer asked. Henderson agreed and the first video started. There were shouts apparently coming from inside one of the apartments and a man in a Hawaiian shirt was running up the stairs.

"Stop! Police!" Henderson shouted as though he was actually at the scene. "Drop your weapons! Police!"

The camera seemed to be following the man in the Hawaiian shirt and Lois realized that her character in the video was chasing the man up the stairs. The man ran into an apartment and slammed the door. Lois kicked the door open then ducked away as shots whizzed by over her head. "Police! Drop your weapons!" Lois shouted, getting into the spirit of it.

She peered around the doorframe and saw a woman sitting on a battered sofa, a dirty faced baby in her arms. She looked terrified. The man in the shirt was waving his gun around and another man, this one in a torn t-shirt, was scooping drug paraphernalia into a box.

"Freeze!" Lois shouted. The woman froze but the two men kept moving. The Hawaiian shirt pulled off two more shots. Lois heard more coming from beside her and realized Henderson had taken out the Hawaiian shirt. The t-shirt man dropped the box he was holding. The woman on the sofa shouted something. T-shirt man brought his hand into view and Lois could see a gun. She squeezed the trigger and t-shirt man went down, caught in the throat.

"Freeze!" Lois shouted once again. "Hands were I can see them!"

The woman brought her hands up and the baby began to squall.

Then the lights came on.

"Are you sure she's not a cop?" Farmer asked.

Henderson grinned as he took Lois's gun and handed it to Farmer. "I keep trying to talk her into joining the force. Her and her husband, but so far no joy."

"And I keep telling you, crooked politicians aren't scared of cops. But they _are_ scared of journalists. I mean, look who brought down Nixon."

"Luckily, you're better looking than Woodward or Bernstein," Henderson quipped.

"I'm also meaner and I shoot a lot straighter," Lois replied.

"I still think it would be a good idea if you were carrying," Henderson said more solemnly.

Lois sighed. Perry hated the idea of journalists going around armed and Richard had agreed with him. A reporter's weapons were supposed to be his brains and his words, not a knife or gun. Clark's opinion was that the world would be a better place if no one had guns. It wasn't an opinion he shared with many people and he had never expressed it as Superman.

"I'll talk to Clark and Perry about it, okay?" she promised.

Henderson nodded.

The overcast skies of the morning had turned dark and menacing. The earlier forecasts had predicted the clouds would burn off by mid-afternoon, giving Metropolis a mild evening. But once again the weather-guessers were wrong. It looked more like thunder storms tonight.

Lois felt a sharp pebble in her shoe and bent down to pull her shoe off and shake it out. That's when she heard the sharp retort of a semiautomatic weapon from somewhere near the trees that shielded the parking area.

She dove for the dirt as bullets pocked the concrete gatehouse. It was only a few yards away, at the entrance to the compound. She started to get to her feet to make a run for the gatehouse but Henderson yelled at her to stay down as he dropped on top of her, knocking the breath out of her and shielding her body with his own.

-o-o-o-

Bennie Farmer had been a MPD firearms instructor for ten years. Before that he'd been an instructor in urban warfare with the U.S. Army. It was this training that kicked in almost before his brain realized what was happening. He dove for cover, his gun in his hands. Then he called for backup. The shooters – there were at least two of them – were in the trees that bordered the parking lot. The gravel road into the compound was public property – part of Pelham Inlet Park, one of Metropolis's little known nature preserves. And although the MPD compound was surrounded by high fences topped with razor wire, there were still myriad ways an unauthorized person could get in.

The shots stopped and Farmer abandoned his shelter, a steel barrel filled with sand and cigarette butts.

Farmer waved for the people who had responded to his call for back up, three men and a woman, to follow him into the underbrush. With any luck the shooters would get tangled in the underbrush and poison ivy although he didn't hold out much hope of that. He made a mental note to ask the emergency rooms to keep an eye out for poison ivy and poison oak cases.

He could feel himself starting to itch.

-o-o-o-

"Which one of us do you think they were after?" Lois asked as Henderson drove her back to the Daily Planet. "You or me?"

"You don't think maybe somebody was just taking pot shots at cops?" Henderson asked.

"No, and neither do you," Lois stated. "The big question is how did anyone know either of us would be out there?"

"I told my secretary where I'd be," Henderson admitted. "And you told your husband."

"This is ridiculous," Lois stated. "I was on vacation, dammit. I don't have any investigations going on into anything anybody would want stopped. Neither does Clark, except for this war thing."

"You have nothing going right now?" Henderson prompted.

"Mayor Sackett's got an intern complaining he made sexual advances toward him," Lois told him.

"I didn't know Sackett swung that way."

Lois chuckled. "Neither did I and I doubt Sackett cares in any case. The kid was fired for incompetence. I was looking into it but I don't think there's much there."

"Nothing else? Nobody who just got out of prison and might be gunning for you?"

"Nope."

"SHADO?"

She shook her head. "They went to ground eight months ago. We _think_ the Feds have them holed up somewhere. But they'd be trying to kill Superman, not embarrass him."

"And if they wanted you dead, you'd be dead."

"Exactly."

-o-o-o-

Clark ignored the newest Superman coverage on the monitors as he made his way through the newsroom to the coffee area. He'd come back to the Daily Planet through the open window of his temporary office after leaving Lois with Henderson. He doubted anyone would have noticed the locked door but he did need to make an appearance to put off suspicions, just in case.

Polly was on the phone with someone. She waved him over, putting her hand over the mouthpiece and said softly, "Your little assistant is pissed at you for locking her out. What'd you do, fall asleep?"

He'd forgotten about Natalia.

"Where is she?" Clark asked in a near whisper.

Polly shrugged. "Probably down with her friends in ad sales." She took her hand from the mouthpiece and listened for a moment. "You're certain?" She waved at Clark to stay where he was. "Can you fax your findings over to me?" she asked the person on the phone. She gave them one of the bullpen fax numbers before thanking them and hanging up.

"That was the toxicology lab with the results on the goodies we sent to them," Polly explained. "Looks like you just missed a bullet. They were contaminated with E coli, one of the nastier strains, too."

"Do they think it could have been an accident?" Clark asked.

Polly shook her head as the fax machine two desks over did its handshake. "No accident. Who ever did it used a needle to inject the poison into the food."

"Polly, you didn't happen to notice who put the goodies on my desk this morning?" Clark asked.

"Yeah," Polly said, grabbing the sheets of paper the fax machine had just spit out. "Little Natalia."

* * *

A/N: **Sex, Lies & Videotape** - Story by Dan Wilcox; Teleplay by Andrew Dettmann & Daniel Truly


End file.
